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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012345">Loving and then Waiting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidKid2020/pseuds/CryptidKid2020'>CryptidKid2020</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, Fluff, Horrible Comedy/Jokes bc I am not funny, It is Happy I Swear, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Richie Tozier's Stand Up Act, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Lives, Therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:22:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012345</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptidKid2020/pseuds/CryptidKid2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only a couple of hours after the clown show-down and Richie Tozier was dealing with a very carefully planned breakdown. Then a certain somebody had mysteriously been brought back to life and throw any coping mechanisms Richie might’ve had down the drain. </p><p>This is the story of the potential aftermath if everybody had lived and everything was as good as it could’ve been.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Past Myra Kaspbrak/Eddie Kaspbrak, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’ve been a fan of IT since the made-for-TV movies first kind of came out, and when the latest movies came out I was skeptical. However, since then I have fallen in love with the characters and the wonderful ideas and creations other people in this fandom has created. </p><p>Besides that! I’ve been writing this thing for a while and I can no longer keep it to myself! So Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie was alone.</p><p>Driving along the California coast with only twenty-seven minutes to three AM, Richie was completely alone for the first time in what felt like years.</p><p>Streetlamps and the headlights of oncoming cars shine their way through his car, projecting light into Richie’s wet eyes and onto his damp face.</p><p>Richie was alone, crying silently as he tries to put as much distance between him and the <em>root</em> of all his problems.</p><p>The <em>person</em> who doesn’t even know about the pain he’s caused for Richie every day for the last six-months.</p><p>A pain that feels like a slight pinch to the heart each time a five-foot-nine-inch ex-hypochondriac even gets within three-feet of Richie and his newly rediscovered gay thoughts.</p><p>Especially since he’s had a twenty-something-year long crush on said ex-hypochondriac.</p><p>            A crush that has always been more like a crushing feeling of love weighing down upon Richie’s heart and mind.</p><p>            Richie didn’t sign up for recognizing his feelings towards men and the lovey-dovey feelings specifically reserved towards a childhood best-friend he didn’t even know he had. He didn’t sign up for realizing he might not entirely be straight for a <em>second and hopefully last </em>time.</p><p>            But did Richie try to take his name off the list he didn’t even write? No, he took his feelings and shoved them deep within himself instead. Not forgetting or ignoring, just simply accepting the fact that any chance he had of being loved back died with the man who unknowingly stole his heart nearly thirty-years prior.</p><p>            At least that’s what Richie thought—what everybody thought.</p><p>            It wasn’t until Richie got dragged down the townhouse stairs—shirtless at that—by Ben for his heart to momentarily be his once again before going back to its newly living and surprisingly-breathing, ex-hypochondritic home.</p><p>            Yet, none of that really matters six months later.</p><p>            Richie is alone.</p><p>And now he knows that his heart will never find its way back to him.</p><p>Richie is alone.</p><p>His heart has a new home and he’s lost his love for what might be for the last time.</p><p>Richie is alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hours after the clown-showdown there’s an aftermath.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Long pieces of text in italics are a flashback :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Richie, y-you okay in there?”</p><p>Snapping out of his thoughts, Richie’s head darts up from where it’s been cradled in his hands for god knows how long and looks towards the bathroom door.</p><p>            “Yeah, Yeah, I’m doing fine. Just y’know-,” Richie looks around the bathroom, searching for an answer that would get Bill and the rest of the Losers off his ass, “-Taking a massive shit.”</p><p>            It had been a couple of hours since the final showdown back in the caverns, the sun already setting when the remaining Losers returned to the townhouse in a state of shock and triumph. Beverly and Richie were the first to break the lengthy grief-ridden silence by offering drinks and a joke that fell flat.</p><p>It had been rough, really, really fucking rough returning back to the townhouse with less people they had set off with.</p><p>With looing yet another member to their newly reunited little family—especially watching one die right on front of you—the survivors of IT could barely breath without seeing the previous events flash before their eyes, them all lost in their own states of grief.</p><p>The events of the last couple of days finally catching up on them, the reality for <em>it</em> to finally be over—after so many centuries, so many <em>deaths</em>—it feels like waking up within a nightmare only to realize you still could be dreaming.</p><p>Yet, as they dealing with their grief, four of the Losers sought out one another rather than letting themselves get lost in the abyss they all feel within themselves.</p><p>Richie, however, did not seek for the assurance the others were giving each other. He instead stood behind the bar and kept nursing the multiple drinks he had made while the others sat on the various couches occasionally talking and sending Richie concerned glances.</p><p>It took Beverly asking Richie how many drinks he’d drank for the man’s already fragile composure to break once again.</p><p>He had dropped the cup he was drinking from, the thick glass saving it from completely shattering all over Richie’s feet. The room went quiet and it seemed like time had slowed to a stop.</p><p>One of the Losers made a move to get off the couches—Richie doesn’t know who, but the action had provoked something deep within Richie as he took off upstairs with an unintelligible murmur, leaving the remaining Losers downstairs with matching expressions of concern and understanding.</p><p>Once upstairs, Richie finds himself on the bathroom floor trying to catch his breath. The fleeting thought of using Eddie’s inhaler making him let out a round of choked laughter—the audible representation to Richie’s heartbreak echoing pitifully inside an old, shitty townhouse bathroom.  </p><p>“Oh well, if you n-need anything—,”</p><p>            “I’m fine Billy Boy, I’ll come back down in a sec,” Richie interrupts.</p><p>            Richie can almost hear Bill’s thoughts through the door as the other man shifts from foot to foot, “A-Alright, but seriously Rich, we’re still all in this together,” Admits Bill, “Okay?”</p><p>            Sighing, Richie rests his against the bathroom door, “Yes, I know…Thanks Bill.”</p><p>            “N-No problem Richie,” Softly replies Bill, and Richie swears he can fucking <em>feel</em> the other man’s shy smile, “Take your time, we’ll be down here.”</p><p>            Richie remains silent as he listens to Bill’s footsteps upon the old wooden floors fade with distance. He lets his head fall between his knees and groans in frustration, “Keep it together Tozier, everybody here is just as upset as you,” He says to himself, “We all lost someone we love less than twenty-four hours ago.”</p><p>            He pauses, “Even if they might’ve loved him differently than you,” Richie admits to himself.</p><p>            Sighing loudly, Richie abruptly stands up and marches towards the sink. With hands clasped tight around each side of the smooth porcelain sink, he stares at his reflection like he’s never seen himself before.</p><p>            He looks older than what he did just a couple hours ago, face ashen and ungroomed. With one of his lenses cracked and his hair curlier than since he was last in Derry.</p><p>Richie Tozier <em>isn’t</em> the same man he was yesterday.</p><p>            Refusing to look at the familiar yet still unknown man that stares back at him, Richie’s gaze shifts down to the sink. Spotting a few flecks of red near the drain, he quickly let’s go of the sink and jumps back.</p><p>            Suddenly Richie can’t stop seeing little spots of red on each of the ceramic tiles beneath him. He tightly shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries once again to control his breathing. Richie takes a deep breath that ends up on the shaky side and peaks through his fingers, praying to every mystical entity that could exist for that he’s just seeing things that aren’t there, it’s only his asshole mind playing tricks on him.</p><p>            Relief fills his body as his eyes search for the small flakes of red and turn up finding nothing but the molding grout between tiles. However, his eyes do notice the condition his clothes are in.</p><p>            Faded and torn, brown with both blood and mud, Richie has never undressed that fast in his life.</p><p>            He’s also never felt this dirty before, covered in muck from both the Neibolt house and IT’s caves, sweat and blood—both his own and…Eddie’s.</p><p>            The brief thought of taking a bath to both clean himself and to relax, disappears as quickly as the imagery of Stanly’s final resting place to his tragic death makes itself known inside his mind.</p><p>            Without further hesitation, Richie steps into the bathtub and turns on the shower to the hottest temperature the old faucet can offer.</p><p>            It takes a couple of seconds for the heat to warm Richie’s bones and make his skin hot to the touch, but when it does, Richie takes what feels like the first breath he’s taken in a long time.</p><p>
  <strong>~</strong>
</p><p>“Richie’s o-okay, said he’ll be down in a couple minutes,” Bill announces as he enters the living area, a sense of relief filling the room.</p><p>“Did he say anything else to you?” Asks Ben.</p><p>Bill sank down into the seat next to Mike with a sigh, “N-No, but I think he’s taking this harder than he expected he would.”</p><p>Beverly frowns and sways closer towards to Ben, “He’s not alone in this,” She says as Ben wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Richie has to know that we’re together-,” Beverly pauses as she takes a deep breath, “-That ‘The Losers’ aren’t going away any time soon.”</p><p>Swallowing, Mike leans further into his chair, “If I had known—.”</p><p>“W-We are not blaming ourselves for anything o-okay,” Bill argues, cutting off Mike. “Okay?” He continues, his eyes challenging the other man to even try to argue against him.</p><p>“Even if we knew the possibilities,” Chimes in Beverly, “If <em>I </em>knew what could’ve happened, to Stanley—E-Eddie?”</p><p>“You told us about what might happen the first night here. What you saw back then, like you said—they were possibilities, things that <em>could</em> happen alright not what <em>would </em>happen.” Objected Ben, cradling her hands in his.</p><p>            Nodding to what Ben and Bill are trying to convince him and Beverly of, Mike clears his throat, earning the attention of the other Losers, “None of us are at blame for the events that have played out,” He agrees.</p><p>            “We just have to move forward, standing t-together for real this time,” Bill states.</p><p>            Although they were down two Losers, none of them were going to leave Derry alone. They might’ve lost and forgotten each other the first time, but this time they’ll still be united—like they should’ve been when they had all left Derry as kids.</p><p>            A loud thump and a muffled curse from upstairs startles the Losers who were lost in thought. The low hum of old pipes running water suddenly cut off making the living area completely quiet.  </p><p>“We should go check on him.”</p><p>The losers all turn away from the stairs and look at one another, they all said had the same thing at the same time.  </p><p>They pause for a second before letting out a round of soft chuckles that changed the rooms once stilted ambiance to a comfortable one.</p><p>“I’ll go up and see what he’s done,” Mike states, “Maybe get a change of bandages for my arm too,” He adds as he stands up, his seat making an old squeaking sound as he does.</p><p>“You need help with your arm at all?” Bill asks, grabbing onto Mike’s uninjured arm as the other man walks past.  </p><p>Mike shakes his head and pats Bill’s shoulder, “Probably not,” he says, “But if I do, I’ll make Richie do it.”</p><p>Ben laughs, “Gonna risk getting medical attention from Trashmouth?” he jokes.</p><p>“C-Come on, it’s been almost over twenty-seven years since he last put a bandage on you, m-maybe he’s learned some medical training since then,” Bill defends Richie, but still laughs along with Ben.</p><p>“If Richie can’t, Bill can help,” Adds Beverly, “Just bring both you and Richie back in one piece.”</p><p>Another muffled sound comes from upstairs.</p><p>“We’ll be right back,” Mike agrees before quickly walking towards the stairs.</p><p>“He’s in the bathroom!” Calls out Bill as Mike disappears up the stairs, leaving the rest of the Losers downstairs.</p><p>
  <strong>~</strong>
</p><p>The shower was nice, refreshing even.</p><p>A way to wash away what you can’t see but feel, like a thin layer of filth that develops over time and manifests by a traumatic change within one’s life.</p><p>It was nice, the shower—at least it was until the shower head cut off the steady flow of water.</p><p>“Really?” Scoffed Richie, “I still got soap in my hair!”</p><p>Richie looks up at the rusting showerhead and frowns, “I don’t know how to fix you!” he exclaims to the showerhead as he taps at it with his finger.</p><p>Staring at the broken showerhead, Richie thinks about simply finishing his hair in the sink, but dreads adding more pain to his already aching back by leaning down to even reach the unfairly small sink he’s been gifted with.</p><p>            He looks down at his already drying body and then back up at the showerhead.</p><p>            “Fuck it,” Grumbled Richie, while he pulls open the shower curtain, “And fuck you, even if you were nice while it lasted,” He curses the showerhead one last time.</p><p>            It was then, that the shower head sputtered back on, shooting almost dangerously hot water into Richie’s face.</p><p>            Even with burning water running down his body, his hand painfully clenched around the shower curtain, Richie was frozen in time.</p><p>            One second, Richie was yelling at a shower, body and hair slick with soap and the next, he was back in the cavern.</p><p>            Eddie’s hot blood, freshly taken from his body as he’s dangled above Richie.</p><p>            He’s flat on his back, a distant throbbing coming from his legs and chest.</p><p>            Eddie’s blood spraying upon Richie, then dripping like a leaky faucet you just can’t fix.</p><p>            He’s stuck, unable to move like he was cursed by some kind of Disney villain.</p><p>            Eddie’s trying to speak, more and more of his blood falls on to Richie.</p><p>            Richie is scared, frightened.</p><p>            Richie is sad, devastated.</p><p>            Eddie is thrown like a pillow during a three AM pillow fight.</p><p>            Richie is undeniably heartbroken.</p><p>            All because of a broken showerhead, he is once again reminded of what he’s lost.</p><p>            Because of that broken showerhead suddenly cutting off again, Richie once again finds himself in the shower, hair clear of soap and face slick with salty water.</p><p>            One second Richie was standing in the shower, and the next, his previously injured knees are hitting the bottom of the tub.</p><p>            “Fuck!” He shouts in a mixture of frustration and pain. Richie holds onto each side of porcelain tub and carefully pulls himself up and out onto the bathroom tiles.</p><p>            Richie knows that he’ll have to think about what just happened, take apart and compartmentalize what he saw and how he felt and still feels—but he’ll have to do that later, much later.</p><p>            Because all Richie wants right now is to get as far away as he can from this bathroom—from the mirror showing him man he doesn’t recognize, from the imaginary-blood, and the nightmare-causing shower.</p><p>            He thanks whatever might be watching over him as he finds a fairly clean towel to wrap around his waist, however he curses said being as he realizes the only clothes he had are now chaotically thrown into the trash.</p><p>            “God dammit, screw this place, fuck Derry,” Richie angrily mumbles to himself, “Hear that Derry, Fuck you!” He shouts towards the thankfully closed window.</p><p>            Breathing heavily, Richie wipes away what he wishes was just sweat from his eyes and sits on the bathtub’s ledge, “Fuck me too I guess,” He whispers, “Fuck feelings.”</p><p>            He lets his head once again fall into his hands as he tries to hype himself up for going out and grabbing clothes so he can once again join the unspoken pity-party occurring downstairs.</p><p>            A knock interrupts his hype process and he look up just in time to see Mike peek his head out from the slightly cracked door.</p><p>            Mike once upon realizing Richie’s lack of clothing, he adverts his eyes and closes the door, “Sorry Rich, uh didn’t know you were getting dressed,” He apologies from the other side.</p><p>            “It’s not like I’m completely dick out Mikey,” Richie laughs, “Jeez, didn’t know you’ve become even more of a virgin Mary since we were kids.”</p><p>            “Very funny Trashmouth,” Mike says as he once again enters the bathroom, fully entering this time before closing the door behind him, “Alright, what’s going on with you?”</p><p>            Richie rolls his eyes and reaches for his glasses, “Are all of you going to pretend that the rest of you didn’t <em>also</em>just get traumatized once again by a fucking clown from space?”</p><p>            Mike’s brows furrow, “We have been talking downstairs, and don’t avoid my question.”</p><p>            “So, if we talk about it, we’ll all just be magically cured and go on with our lives like nothing happened? Great, where do I sign up?” Richie replies as he claps his hands together.</p><p>            Eyes going soft, Mike walks closer to Richie, “We heard a thumping sound coming from up here, we’re worried.”</p><p>            Richie scoffs and pulls the towel tighter around his mis-section as he stands up from the tub, “I must’ve slipped for a second, I’m fine now,” He lies as he turns his back towards Mike, rather risking to face his own reflection then see the concern in his friend’s eyes.  </p><p>            Mike says nothing but puts a hand on Richie’s bare shoulder, “We’re all struggling, but at we’re <em>together</em>.”</p><p>            Richie laughs morosely as he whirls around to face Mike, “But we’re <em>not</em>. We’re not ‘all together’ because Stanley died! Eddie, fucking <em>Eddie</em> died!” He explodes.</p><p>            “Rich—”</p><p>            “No! No, let me say this,” Richie interrupts, but waits for Mike’s silent motion to continue.</p><p>            Mike swallows and nods for Richie to keep talking.</p><p>            Richie sighs, “I kept seeing Eds,” he admits, “I’ve seen him die so many times now where it’s gotten to the point where I could fucking I don’t know create a horrifically realistic scene by scene diorama of him dying,” Richie lets out a sad laugh, “I saw him die before he even died man.”</p><p>            “What?”</p><p>            “Beverly was right about the deadlights. But, instead of watching everybody die in all these different ways—which I think would be even less fucked up then what I saw, really I mean at least there would be some variety to spice up the nightmare but—”</p><p>            “Richard, what did you see?”</p><p>            “Fuck,” Shakily says Richie, “I knew what IT was going to do to Eddie.”</p><p>            “That’s none of our faults Richie, come on,” Mike tells Richie, “The other Losers and I, we can’t blame ourselves for any of this.”</p><p>            “Shit, I know, I know,” Agrees Richie, throwing his hands up, “But when Eddie saved me from the deadlights, it had already happened to me like over a hundred times. So, when Eddie…when Eddie really did <em>die</em>, I waited for it to start all over again. Waited for his blood to spray, his body to be flung, his fucking stupid last words—I <em>waited</em>.”</p><p>            Mike stares at Richie like he’s never seen the man before in his life, “Then when it didn’t start all over again…”</p><p>            “I <em>prayed</em> Mikey, I fucking prayed for his blood to once again rain, because I realized that…that I’d still be able to see him alive—even if was just for a couple minutes per hundred deaths—I knew that his chest wouldn’t be <em>that</em> <em>fucking</em><em>still</em> for very much longer.”</p><p>            The bathroom went silent with that admission.</p><p>            Richie laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he probably scared Mike into speechlessness, possibly even reversed the re-formed bonds between him and the other man.</p><p>            However, Mike does the unexpected and simply pulls Richie into a hug that would be more heartwarming and less awkward if Richie was fully dressed and not nearly standing in his birthday suit.</p><p>            Besides that, Richie hugs Mike back. And for what might be the first time, Richie accepts the assurance that’s being offered to him.</p><p>            “As much as I love the ‘bro-bonding’ with you Mikey, but I would love to get out of this very skimpy towel and into some actual people clothes,” Richie admits, pulling away from Mike.</p><p>            “Where did your clothes even go?” Mike asks, chuckling.</p><p>            “Threw ‘em away,” Replies Richie, motioning to the trashcan.</p><p>            Mike looks down at his own clothes with a grimace, “Guess I don’t have to ask why,” He admits.</p><p>            “Ha! Yeah…” Richie agrees as he pats down his towel covered thighs.</p><p>            Being able to take a hint, Mike leaves the bathroom to get Richie some clothes.</p><p>            “Just bring my whole suitcase please and thank you Mikey!” Richie calls out to Mike, before turning back towards the mirror and shaking his head to dry his hair.</p><p>            “Maybe I should get a haircut,” He says pulling on one of his curls.</p><p>
  <em>“I swear if you ask me that again I will convince Beverly to shave off every inch of your fat head,” Loudly complains Eddie, purposefully rocking the hammock in annoyance.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richie smirks, “What can’t do it yourself Eds?” he teases as he pokes the other boy with his foot. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No! Shut the fuck up, Richie, do you even know much bacteria live on just a person’s head?!” Eddie argues. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Afraid of a little lice Eddie?” Richie asks with a growing smile on his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Realization dawns upon Eddie’s face, “Richie, fuck no Richie!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before Eddie can jump out of the shared hammock, Richie starts shaking his head towards the hypochondriac boy, “They only make you itch a little bit, C’mon Eds!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>As Eddie tries to fight Richie in the hammock, the rest of the Losers either roll their eyes with fondness or are dying of laughter.</em>
</p><p>“A shave would do good too,” Richie continues, patting his five o’clock shadow with a faint smile.</p><p>“Brought the whole case like you asked, now you’re gonna have to do something for me,” Mike addresses as he re-enters the bathroom.</p><p>Taking his suitcase from Mike, Richie immediately starts to take out clothes to wear, “Mike I love you, and I would do a lot of things for you. But no offence, you’re gonna have to find another kind of favor for me to do for you.</p><p>“God no never!” Exclaims Mike.</p><p>“Wow, now I’m taking offence. C’mon I’m a catch! Admit it!”</p><p>“I love you too Rich, but like a brother! No, I was just going to ask you to help me change my bandage,” Mike replies.</p><p>Richie pauses going through his luggage, “You’re trusting me to do that for you?” he asks genuinely surprised.</p><p>“Sure, I mean every kid had taken some kind of health class—the basics for taking care of wounds,” Assures Mike.</p><p>“Um, yeah of course I can help you out bro,” Richie manages to say, “Just let me get dressed first and uh,” Trails off Richie, he looks to the mirror and remembers seeing a miniature first aid kit being behind it. He drops the clothes he was holding and walks towards the sink and fishes out the kit from the mirror, “Here,” He says, offering the kit to Mike.</p><p>“Thanks, but—"</p><p>“I’m going to quickly change,” Richie interrupts as he picks up the clothes he dropped, “I’ll meet you downstairs afterwards, because to be honest I fucking hate this bathroom,” He admits.</p><p>Mike opens his mouth to ask another question but takes one look around the gloomy, rusted and rotten bathroom and nods his head, “I’ll see you downstairs,” Mike agrees.</p><p>“Just a couple of minutes at the most I promise,” Richie adds.</p><p>Mike holds up a hand and smiles, “Don’t freak Rich, the rest of the Losers and I will be downstairs. See you when you come down,” He says to Richie as he makes his exit from the bathroom.</p><p>Richie stares at the bathroom door for a couple seconds after Mike’s departure before looking down at the pile of clothes he’d brought with him.</p><p>He doesn’t know why Mike asking him for his help with his arm brought up feelings that are still unknown for Richie, but he does feel like it has something to do Eddie and his meticulous procedures that Richie would occasionally help with when they were kids.</p><p>Most of Richie’s confusing feelings have something to do with Eddie.</p><p>Always Eddie.</p><p>
  <strong>~</strong>
</p><p>“Remember the time I visited from Portland? Beverly asks out loud, “It was around Christmas I think, because all I can remember is Richie spreading the flu to nearly all of us and me having to stay longer than planned.”</p><p>“I remember Eddie almost having an aneurysm when everybody but him got sick,” Admits Ben, “He had lectured Richie for like an hour about how to properly wash your hands.”</p><p>Bill laughs, “I can only remember E-Eddie making Richie stop by with more than enough pharmaceutical drugs to last multiple lifetimes.”</p><p>Beverly hums in agreement as the corners of her mouth curl up, “It was a fun vacation though, even if I was seriously delirious with high fevers half the time.”</p><p>“Eddie did take care of us pretty well for being so young,” Says Ben, “For being so afraid of getting sick, he and Richie basically nursed us all back to health.”</p><p>“W-Wonder why he didn’t just become a d-doctor?” Ponders Bill, “I remember him talking about possibly going into the m-medical field before we graduated.”</p><p>A sad look crossed over Beverly’s face, “He probably forgot about it after he left Derry, just like I did when I got back to Portland.”</p><p>A silence falls upon the remaining Losers.</p><p>“He would’ve been a great doctor,” Ben confesses, receiving nods from Bill and Beverly.</p><p>“What about Richie b-being a nurse?” Bill questions, “He was always Eddie’s assistant when it came to patching one of us up.”</p><p>Beverly brushes some hair from her face and laughs, “Let’s see how he does with Mike first before we start mentioning a career change for Richie.”</p><p>“You think they’re almost done up there?” Ben asks as he motions towards the stairs, “It’s getting late and Mike was just checking in on Rich,” He adds.</p><p>Bill turns around to look at the empty stairs, almost hopping he would see Mike coming down them, “I don’t know,” He replies as he turns back to face Ben and Beverly.</p><p>“Mikey would come down if something happened,” Beverly reassures, “Richie is probably just helping him with his arm.”</p><p>Ben and Bill nod in agreement, but they can’t stop feeling like something is amiss.</p><p>Sensing the two men’s hesitance, Beverly shifts out of Ben’s arms and stands up, “Doesn’t hurt to check on them right?” She says as she offered a hand to Ben before pulling him up off the sofa, “We should also try to get some rest…it’s—it’s been a <em>long</em> day.”</p><p>Bill puts his hands into his pockets as stands, offering Beverly a meek smile, “T-Too long.”</p><p>The clock in the living area read to be only around ten o’clock, but to the remaining Losers, it felt like years had gone by in just a day’s time. Within Twenty-four hours they had lost yet another member of misfit family and defeated an ancient evil that had a been playing them their whole lives like a puppet master with all the strings.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go tell Mike and Richie the rest of the Losers are tapping out for the night,” Ben says, “We can always talk more tomorrow.”</p><p>The three losers take one last glance at the townhouses living area before moving towards the stairs, however as they just pass past the doorframe, Mike’s voice starts traveling downstairs.</p><p>“Richie is doing okay, he just slipped in the shower for a second,” Mike announces as he walks down the stairs, opening up the first-aid kit in his hands, “But I think he’s still a little lost without his other half,” He continues with sad smile.</p><p>“We all saw how close Richie and—,” Trails off Mike as he sudden stops mid-step.</p><p>The other Losers look at Mike with concern as the other man suddenly freezes, “Mike, y-you alright?” Asks Bill.</p><p>“Eddie,” Mike says breathlessly, stuck staring past the other Losers, he drops the first-aid kit.</p><p>As the kit falls, a thin roll of medical tape bounces down each of the remaining steps before rolling through Bill’s feet.</p><p>Ben, Bill and Beverly follow the tape journey until it ends suddenly as it runs into a pair of familiar shoes.</p><p>Three sets of eyes drift upwards, taking in the muddy jeans and blood-stained shirt until their eyes open so wide it looks like it hurts.</p><p>“E-Eddie?” Beverly whispers afraid that if she spoke any louder the familiar grim figure would disappear.</p><p>“What the fuck are you all looking at?” Grumbles what looks like a very unhygienic, an equally unhappy and yet surprisingly breathing Eddie Kaspbrak.  </p><p>Even with the inhumane amount of dried blood on his person, the large tear in the middle of his shirt, and the thick layer of mud cakes on his pant legs, its undeniably <em>the</em> living, walking, talking Eddie Kaspbrak.</p><p>“We need to get Richie,” Announces Bill.</p><p>Without any further discussion, Beverly and Ben are pushing past Mike as they hurry upstairs shouting Richie’s name as loudly as they could.</p><p>Eddie’s eyes follow Ben and Bev until he can no longer see them, then he turns his attention back towards the two still frozen Losers. He frowns, “So nobody is going to tell me why I suddenly woke up in a Derry shit pond?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Zom-Buddy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the aftermath.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pretty long chapter sorry! Enjoy!</p><p>-Long pieces of text in italics are a flashback :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie had just finished putting on his belt when the new power couple suddenly bursts into the bathroom yelling his name, “Holy fuck!” He hears himself shout, quickly holding up a shirt to his chest, “Does nobody know how to fucking knock in this town!”</p><p>Any thoughts about continuing to chastise the couple get lodged in his throat as he takes in both Ben and Beverly’s teary-eyed expressions, “Uh, is everything alright?” Richie asks as his heart starts racing with every bad thought that pops into his head, “Nobody else is dead right?”</p><p>Richie tries to laugh off the others inability to really form words as they are still lost in some state of shock, but as the silence continues and Richie’s chest starts to get tighter—he really, <em>really </em>hopes that nobody else has died.</p><p>He could barely handle Stanley’s death, and then when Eddie died? Well he doesn’t think he’ll ever recover if <em>three </em>people he loves die in a matter of like seventy-two hours.</p><p>But when Beverly finally does find her words, Richie just laughs.</p><p>And laughs.</p><p>And laughs.</p><p>But when Ben and Beverly’s sad expressions don’t change, Richie’s laughter cuts off as fast as a balloon can pop.</p><p>“Richie, he’s alive,” Beverly repeats herself, as she reaches out to Richie’s shoulder.</p><p>Richie shakes his head and pulls away from Ben and Bev, “This isn’t funny anymore, okay? This prank you two are trying to pull,” Richie says motioning between the other two Losers, “It’s not funny anymore alright, you got me, you got the Trashmouth. Ha-ha, okay now you two can go back downstairs.”</p><p>“Richie she’s telling the truth,” Speaks up Ben, “He’s downstairs with Mike and Bill, okay?”</p><p>“If this is some sort of ploy to get me to come downstairs, I already told, Bill, Mike and now you two that I’m going too!”</p><p>“Rich—”</p><p>Richie throws his shirt down with a sneer, “He’s dead! Alright! Eddie is fucking dead! I know you guys want me to know the fact that he’s never coming back but jokes on you asshole,” he yells as he jams a finger into Ben’s chest, “I already fucking <em>know</em> he’s dead, I saw him die!”</p><p>Ben just shakes his head, “You know what fuck this, I’m done,” he says.</p><p>Richie retracts his finger and glares at the other man, “You better be—” he starts to say but gets cut off as Ben grabs his retracted arm and pulls him towards the bathroom door, “—Hey wait! No, fuck off! Ben!”</p><p>“We’re not lying to you Richie, I promise!” Beverly yells over Richie’s protests.</p><p>Ben, already tired of Richie’s resilience, surprisingly lifts up Richie in a fireman carry. And if Richie wasn’t so pissed at Ben and Beverly he’d congratulate Ben for getting so strong and tell Beverley that she’s one lucky woman.</p><p>“Once you put me down, you’re a dead man Hanscom!” Richie threatens, giving up on fighting the clearly stronger Loser. He looks up at Beverly who’s following closely behind Ben and him, Richie who can see the amusement hidden under Beverly’s saddened eyes, “Don’t think you’re getting off so easy either Marsh, I’ll think of something mean to do to you.”</p><p>Beverly scoffs, “Richie, you were afraid of me when we first met,” she reminds him.</p><p>Richie frowns, “Whatever, Marsh,” he replies, taking delight in seeing her smile turn into a frown.</p><p>“Richie, I know you think we’re playing some kind of trick on you, but do you really think any of the Losers would do something like that to you? To anybody?” Beverly points out.</p><p>Richie’s gaze shifts back down to the ground, he doesn’t say anything else.</p><p>Turning around the last corner before the stairs, Richie’s ears pick up a voice he didn’t think he’d ever hear again outside of his dreams.</p><p>“I’m so glad you guys are alive,” He hears The Voice say with audible smile.</p><p>“W-We’re happy that you are too?” Replies Bill.  </p><p>“Why are you saying that like it’s a fucking question?” Accuses The Voice, the tone sounding so like how Eddie’s would that Richie has to force the blossom of hope that makes his heart race even faster.  </p><p>Richie starts struggling again, “Ben fucking put me down, okay I’ll go downstairs! Just fucking put me down!” Lies Richie.</p><p>“Rich please!” Pleas Beverly.</p><p>“How are you even alive Eddie?” He hears Mike question The Voice.</p><p>“You think I fucking know? I was bleeding out one second and then I’m covered in shit!” Exclaims The Voice.</p><p>“Do you feel d-different?” Asks Bill.</p><p>“No, I’m fine, where’s Richie?” The Voice answers, “Richie?”</p><p>He struggles harder when the hauntingly familiar voice calls out his name, “No, No, <em>No</em>,” Rambles Richie, as he tries to look catch Ben’s eye, “Please Ben, just put me down, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>Then suddenly, he’s back on his feet and being marched down the stairs.</p><p>Halfway down, he’s met face to face with a very untidy Eddie.</p><p>“Eddie?” Richie mutters.</p><p>“Rich!” Eddie shouts, pulling Richie into a brief hug before he pulls back, “Where’s your shirt?”  </p><p> “Y-You’re alive?” Chokes out Richie, still in shock from Eddie’s hug alone.</p><p> Eddie scoffs, “If any of you fuckers ask me that again I will leave,” he threatens.</p><p>“What do you remember then?” Ben redirects.</p><p>Richie averts his gaze from Eddie when the man glances at him with unreadable look before turning back to Ben, “Well besides being stabbed by It—Which is dead right? Right, It is dead?” Eddie stops to ask.</p><p>“Yes Eddie, It’s not coming back,” Beverly quickly answers.</p><p>Relief visibly flood through Eddie’s worn body, “Well, after that…I-I don’t remember,” He admits as he sends one last glance to Richie, “Did I miss anything else besides,” Eddie motions around the Losers, “You killing It?”</p><p>“No—”</p><p>“We left you down there,” Richie blurts out, earning Eddie’s attention, “We—<em>I </em>left you, we couldn’t get you out.”</p><p>“We didn’t want to leave you Eddie, none of us,” Mike tells Eddie, seeing the other man’s brows furrow and lips turning down into a frown, “Richie wouldn’t leave without you, we had to drag him out,” he adds.  </p><p>Eddie shoots Richie a look surprise.</p><p>Richie feels like he’s going to pass out.</p><p>Eddie’s look of surprise melts into one of concern, “Richie? Are you alright?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck am <em>I</em> dead? Did <em>I</em> fucking die?” Richie huffs, “Oh god I’m dead right now aren’t I? Fuck me,” Panics Richie.</p><p>“Richie look at me,” Beverly says stepping into Richie’s space, as she holds the man’s face in her hands, “<em>You</em> are not dead, Eddie is…well, is no longer dead, and we—<em>you</em> are okay.”</p><p>“I think I’m going to pass out,” Richie says giving fair warning before fainting right into Ben’s arms.</p><p>Eddie looks down at the unconscious Richie with his own rising panic, “What the fuck is wrong with him?” He exclaims.</p><p>“You died Eds,” States Bill, “You died.”</p><p>Eddies eyes widen as reality crashes down upon him, he looks down at his blood-crusted and torn shirt and reaches up to his chest where he can still feel the phantom pain of being skewered alive.</p><p>“Eddie?” Carefully says Ben as he readjusts Richie.</p><p>Closing his mouth he didn’t even know what open, Eddie shakes his head and walks past the remaining Losers and up the stairs, when he reaches the top, he turns to look down at his friends, “I’m going to take a shower and change,” He announces before turning back around and walking away without another word.  </p><p>The Losers stand on the staircase with only the sound of their breathing filling the silence for a couple seconds before Beverly opens her mouth to say one thing;   </p><p>“What the fuck?”</p><p>
  <strong>~</strong>
</p><p>The second the door to his room closes behind him, Eddie knew he fucked up.</p><p>He had woken up alone in what Eddie could only identify as just another Derry shit pond with nothing but the clothes on his back. At that point, the fact that Eddie had died and came back like it was nothing, didn’t really register with him.</p><p>He only had a couple thoughts floating around in his mind. However, the main one, the one thought that motivated him enough clean off as much as he could and walk for what felt like hours back to the townhouse was to see if the rest of the Losers had survived too.</p><p>During his journey back, the sun had set, and moon had rose and shone him his way through crowded forests and empty unlit streets back to the townhouse. On his way back he’d thought about what led up to the final showdown and later his death. Eddie thought about how it felt to die, to see nothing but an endless void, to hear and feel absolutely nothing.</p><p>He thought about the Losers, about Stanley, about the childhood he didn’t even know he had until a couple days prior.</p><p>He thought about what he’ll do next, what to do with Myra, with his job—his life.</p><p>But the one thing Eddie didn’t let himself think about is how when he was dying, the last thing he heard was Richie’s cracked voice begging him to stay alive—stay awake.</p><p>
  <em>“Please just stay awake for me Eds, I—we can’t do this without you. Just don’t die, alright don’t die—not again. C’mon open your eyes for me, just one more time please!—Eddie!?” </em>
</p><p>He didn’t let himself think about how his last words were a confession—an homage, of him vocally <em>acknowledging </em>the chaotic cocktail of emotions that have been brewing within Eddie since he was thirteen.</p><p>
  <em>“F-Fuck—I might just be in l-love with you.” </em>
</p><p>No, Eddie didn’t think about any of that, he just kept putting one foot in of the other. And maybe, just maybe if the Losers are alive like he hopes they are, Eddie will think about asking what <em>Richie</em> remembers.</p><p>But once he entered the townhouse and saw everybody except for Richie, his heart sank.</p><p>Then when he saw Ben carrying the very lively Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier—the man-child who once again invited himself into his heart after nearly thirty-years apart—well, there was no way from stopping himself from hugging the man he’d leave his wife of five years for in a heartbeat.</p><p>Now, Eddie realizes he must’ve messed up somewhere, and that somewhere probably was what he said when he was dying.</p><p>Sighing, Eddie finally takes a look around his room and realizes that nobody’s been in there since he and the Losers left earlier that day.</p><p>He runs his hand along his multiple still zipped shut suitcases and shakes his head at obscene amount he and Myra had packed for this trip. He kicks over one of his cases and feels foolish for acting out his frustration on his own luggage like a child.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, he tosses the suitcase containing his clothes onto his still perfectly made bed and grabs the first shirt, pants and boxers he sees before booking it out of his temporary bedroom.</p><p>He quietly makes it to the bathroom and takes a through but quick shower as he pushes down the memory of Bowers attacking him in said bathroom earlier that day.</p><p>During his shower, he further inspects his chest for any physical indication of him being impaled and finds a long thin scar spanning almost his entire chest, like the wound itself had healed months maybe even years’ worth of damage in a matter of a couple hours, maybe even minutes.</p><p>That doesn’t mean he likes the scar that further solidifies Eddie’s death, especially since the scar is identical on both chest and back. He wouldn’t even know how to explain it to Myra without her forcing him into a mental hospital for the rest of his second chance at life.</p><p>At least he can hide the scars on his chest and back, what he won’t be able to hide as easily will be the still healing knife wound to the face.</p><p>Eddie doesn’t know if that injury not magically healing is some sort of sick cosmic joke or whatever that healed him only had enough power to heal the most life-threatening injuries, but Eddie’s still not happy with that future scar either.</p><p>After Eddie finishes changing and throwing away his clothes into the same trashcan that holds Richie’s, he goes to grab his little first-aid kit he hid behind the mirror.</p><p>Finding the kit missing, Eddie thinks back to the roll of medical tape that hit his foot when he arrived at the Townhouse.</p><p>Before making his exit from the bathroom, his eyes catch on the thing he’s been ignoring since entering the room.</p><p>Walking over to Richie’s discarded suitcase, Eddie picks up the shirt on the top and closes his hand around the unfairly soft fabric, “Guess I’ve hid up here long enough,” he mutters to himself as he leaves the bathroom with a fist clenched tight around a t-shirt that feels more like a peace offering than fairly-worn t-shirt</p><p>
  <strong>~</strong>
</p><p>            “He’s going to be alright, right?” Ben asks while nodding his head towards a still unconscious Richie.</p><p>            It had taken both Ben and Bill to carry Richie down the rest of the stairs, the man’s limp body heavier than it was when Richie was awake. With only a couple of bonks to the head, they successfully set Richie onto one of the longer couches with a well-worn throw blanket covering his naked chest.</p><p>“Did Richie hit his head in the shower at all Mike?” Ben continues as he and Beverly stand next to the passed-out Loser.</p><p>            “No, he said he caught himself before he could’ve really hurt himself,” Admits Mike as he sits with his arm rested on bar’s counter, Bill helping him re-wrap his bandages.</p><p>            “H-He could’ve and didn’t know he did,” Offers Bill, putting the finishing touches on Mike’s arm.</p><p>            Beverly leans down and gently brushes away some of Richie’s hair out the way and checks for any injuries, “He’s fine,” She says as she pets the sleeping man’s hair before standing back up, “Richie’s body must’ve just shut off. We’ve all had a long day and I’m surprised it took this long for one of us to pass out.”</p><p>            The three men hum in agreement, they all had felt the draining sensation of utter exhaustion.</p><p>            “Can we clear the air before Eddie comes back down?” Suddenly asks Ben, gaining everybody’s attention.</p><p>            “Of course,” Beverly assures, rubbing Ben’s back.</p><p>            “This is going to sound really insensitive,” Admits Ben, “But are we sure that it’s really Eddie up there?” He says point up towards the ceiling.  </p><p>            “We killed It,” Asserts Bill, “H-He’s not coming back.”</p><p>            Ben looks to the side, “I know that Bill,” he agrees before sighing, “Just how is he alive? I mean we saw Eddie get…<em>hurt</em>—we saw that he was dead, that he <em>died</em>.”</p><p>            The room goes quiet except for Richie’s slight snoring.  </p><p>            Mike rubs at the absent scar on his hand, “Maybe it’s like the scars,” he says holding up his hand, “Those healed after we killed It.”</p><p>            Beverly shakes her head, “But the scars,” she says motioning to her own unblemished palm, “They’re different than what happened to Eddie. We did that as a promise, a reminder for what we were supposed to come back and do. We didn’t—,” Beverly says before cutting herself off.</p><p>            “W-We didn’t die like Eddie did,” Bill continues for Beverly.</p><p>            “But what caused both of them to even exist can be traced back to the same thing,” Says Mike, “<em>It</em>.”</p><p>            Catching onto what Mikes trying to convey, Bill nods his head in agreement, “I-If It doesn’t exist, then the injuries he caused might not exist either.”</p><p>            “If that’s true then why isn’t anybody else It killed alive too?” Questions Ben.</p><p>            “Maybe its because we were the ones to <em>kill</em> him,” Beverly suggests after a moment of stillness.</p><p>            Though before anybody else could continue on the subject of Eddie’s not-death, said now-not-dead Loser barges into the small living area.</p><p>            “I swear if any of you somehow misused, misplaced or even made the mistake of using up all my first aid kit—” Eddie begun as he throws Richie’s t-shirt onto the still sleeping man, “How is he still asleep? Also, nobody even told me how he lost his shirt in the in first place—,” He rambles, before going over to Bill and taking the roll of medial tape from the man’s hand, “I am not afraid to make you fuckers go out and buy everything you used—,” Eddie pauses as he notices the poorly hidden grins on the other Losers faces, “What’s so fucking funny?”</p><p>            “I was wrong,” Ben admits, “You really are Eddie.”</p><p>            “Never change Eds,” Says Beverly.</p><p>            “Wait, wait, wait—did you guy’s think I wasn’t real?” Eddie asks with furrowed brows.</p><p>            “W-Well…” Trails off Bill.</p><p>            “It was only Ben that doubted you,” Admitted Mike.</p><p>            Ben half-heartedly glares at Mike, “Really just throw me under the bus why don’t you,” he chuckles.</p><p>            Staring at the losers with a dumbfounded expression, Eddie shakes his head, “I’m alive as fuck you shitheads! And I’ll do more than just pinch you to prove that.”</p><p>            “Mm, sounds kinky,” Speaks up a tired voice behind them.</p><p>            “Richie!” Exclaims Beverly moving closer to still groggy man, “You okay?”</p><p>            “Sure,” Richie answers as he adjusts his still cracked glasses, “If being ‘okay’ means you’re like ninety-nine percent certain you’ve died and now living in some kind of purgatory.” He clarifies while sitting up from the sofa, as the blanket once covering his bareness falls into his lap.</p><p>            “You are <em>not</em> dead dickwad,” Eddie tells him as he avoids looking at Richie’s naked chest.</p><p>            “And that’s why I was only ninety-nine percent certain—leaves room for error,” Richie replies.</p><p>            “It’s one percent!” Eddie argues.</p><p>            Richie looks over at Beverly, his gaze still slightly dazed from sleep, “I’m not hallucinating am I Bev? You can see him too?”</p><p>            Beverly sends Eddie a sad look that makes the man turn his head away from the rest of the Losers, “Yes, Rich we can,” She sighs.</p><p>            “Great,” Richie croaked, “Now,” he says as he fully sits up from the couch with a groan, “Why the fuck am I shirtless?”</p><p>            “Here,” Says Mike, offering Richie the shirt Eddie has thrown onto the sofa.</p><p>            Taking the shirt from Mike, Richie sluggishly slips it on, too tired and lost to shy away from his friends eyes, “Thanks dude,” he tells Mike before continuing, “So, what have I missed?” Richie says with a faux smile.</p><p>            “Well uhm, as you can see, E-Eddie’s back?” Offers Bill, “Besides that, nothing else has happened since you passed out.”</p><p>            Eddie looks back at Richie, “Yeah man, guess I’m not dead anymore,” he says, earning a slight twitch to the lips from Richie.</p><p>            Then as a sense of hesitance to further continue to the conversation, the room plunges itself into an uncomfortable silence.</p><p>            At least until Richie, clears his throat with an unnecessary loud sound.</p><p>            “Does this mean that Eds is a zombie now?” Questioned Richie.</p><p>            The room still as the other Losers eyes shift between Richie and Eddie.</p><p>            “What does that even mean?!” Shouts Eddie, “I’m not dead!”</p><p>            Richie laughs, “Yeah, but you <em>were</em> dead and now you aren’t. That’s like the definition of a zombie!” He argues.</p><p>            “No, it’s not fuckhead! Shut up,” Eddie retorts, “You don’t even know the definition of like…anything,” He attempts, “Fuck you dude!” Eddie says as Richie just smiles.</p><p>            “C’mon Eds, my little Zom-buddy!” Richie teases.</p><p>            “I’m going to look up the definition of Zombie and shove it down your throat!” He threatened, “And don’t you dare fucking say it sounds sexual,” Eddie continues when Richie opens his mouth.</p><p>            “Hey, you were the one to say it, not me,” Richie laughs as he holds his hands up in a mock surrender.</p><p>            Eddie glares at the other man as a familiar heat rises within him. He opens his mouth to continue arguing with Richie but as he does a sharp pain to the side of his face stops him in his tracks.</p><p>            “Oh shit, Eddie! Fuck are you okay?,” Richie asks as the smile on his face fades into concern. With a sense of urgency, Richie rises to his feet, “C’mon open your eyes,” he nearly pleads.</p><p>
  <em>“C’mon open your eyes for me,”</em>
</p><p>Head shaking away the memory, Eddie opens his eyes he didn’t even know was closed. The first thing he sees is Richie’s face pinched tightly with concern and panic, his hands held close to Eddie’s face like he wants to touch it but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.</p><p>Forcing down the feelings the come with his living-beating heart, Eddie pushes Richie’s hands away from his face, “I’m fine, apparently whatever fixed up this <em>mess</em>,” he says motioning to where the bloody void once resided, “Didn’t want to fix <em>this </em>too,” Eddie points towards his now bleeding cheek.</p><p>Making himself stop searching Eddie’s chest for any sign of the puncture that had killed the man, Richie’s eyes lock onto the small drops of blood dripping from Eddie’s cheek, “Oh shit, yeah, fuck,” Richie says fumbling with his words, “Here, go sit down shit,” He says basically dragging Eddie to one of the bar stools.</p><p>“Richie, here’s the rest of the kit,” Ben says handing Richie the first aid kit that Bill and Mike were using only a couple minutes prior.</p><p>“W-Wait,” Eddie says looks at the rest of the Losers mixed expressions of concern towards him and amusement at Richie’s frazzled behavior, “You’re just going to let him do this?!”</p><p>Beverly chuckles, “What you don’t remember Richie being your nurse when were kids?”</p><p>Eddie opens his mouth to argue before a memory begins to play in his mind:</p><p>
  <em>They were spending yet another evening in the clubhouse, it had been a couple of weeks after their fight with Pennywise and the Losers had been spending most of their time doing as much activities as they could to avoid thinking about what they had seen and been through. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How do you still have all ten of your fingers! Every time we come down here, you’re always hitting your finger with your hammer or slicing your fucking meaty stomach open!” Jested Richie.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Beep, Beep Richie,” Hissed Beverly, inspecting Ben’s already swollen and bruised finger. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What? No offence Ben, but if I wasn’t sitting in a place you built, I would think you could barely hold a popsicle stick without loosing a finger or two,” Richie insists. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben winces as Beverly presses a little to hard on his finger but still rolls his eyes at Richie’s words, “Thanks Richie,” he says sarcastically.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just saying facts Benny-Boy,” Says Richie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There! Found It!” Eddie exclaims as he pulls out a roll of gauze from his fanny pack. He pushes Richie out of his way as he gently takes Ben’s hand from Beverly’s.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richie leans over Eddie as he looks at Ben’s finger, “What’s the diagnoses Dr. K? Does the patient have to get his finger amputated?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  “No, he doesn’t, and don’t call me that,” Eddie says looking up at Richie before turning back towards Ben and Bev, “You just need to wrap it with this and put ice on it,” He admits. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Can you wrap it for me?” Asks Ben, “I don’t want to mess it up.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure,” Answers Eddie, “Here hold out your hand.” Once Ben follows Eddie’s order, he starts wrapping the other boy’s finger with a delicate touch. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben winces again and reaches out to grab something to squeeze and it met with Beverly’s soft hand squeezing back.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richie closely watches what Eddie does. He watches his fingers dance along the gauze as it goes around and around Ben’s finger. Eddie looks like a pro, like he’s maybe done this for the Losers one time too many. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eddie feels the boy’s gaze and is annoyed by the fluttering feeling that occurs in his chest. Feels like he needs his inhaler, but he threw the thing away weeks ago, “If you’re going to just fucking watch and do nothing,” He says to Richie, earning the boy’s attention, “You could always help me out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eddie takes a second to look up at Richie, seeing the other boy’s eyes widen, he looks away, “Or not, I don’t give a shit.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben and Beverly share a look that Eddie decidedly ignores.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Geez, Eds let a man speak before changing your mind,” Richie chuckles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You are not a ‘man’ Rich,” Retorts Eddie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s not what your mom told me while I was in bed with her last night,” Counters Richie. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Shut up, oh my god, shut the fuck up,” Cursed Eddie, “You’re no longer allowed to help me, just go away and let me work.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Laughing, Richie moves to the right of Eddie, “No, C’mon let me help! I’ll be your sexy nurse and I’ll help your patients. You’ll let me help you right Benny? Two is better than one right?” Richie asks Ben. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eddie glares up at Ben, the other boy looks away sheepishly before turning to look up at Richie, “Um, well—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Great!” Richie says cutting off Ben and kneeling next to Eddie, “So, what can I help with Eds?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eddie groans and resists hitting Richie for bring annoying, then Ben for being too much of a pushover and then hit himself for even asking Richie for help in the first place, “Can you put your finger right here for a second?” He says point to where Ben’s bandage could unravel from. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure,” Richie agrees and carefully puts his finger on the bandage, “Is this it?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, I just need to grab a clip from my pack,” Eddie replies as he unzips his fanny pack. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richie huffs, “You could’ve just asked Beverly.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thought you wanted to be ‘my nurse’,” Eddie grumbles in response as he pulls out the small clip he was looking for. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Think I said, ‘Sexy nurse’ but alright,” Says Richie, “Here,” he continues as he plucks the clips from Eddie’s hand.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey—Richie!” Eddie protests but before he can take it back, Richie clips it onto Ben’s wrap, “Oh, you did it right.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah duh, I’ve seen you do this before, I’m your nurse for a reason,” Says Richie, as Eddie looks at him like he’s suddenly grown an extra head, “What? Something wrong with my face?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eddie looks away quickly and blames the warmth he feels in his cheeks on the annoyance he feels towards Richie, “If you count your face being the thing wrong with it,” he retorts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richie laughs and shoves Eddie, who in turn shoves him back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ben and Beverly watch the two boys antics with visible amusement, their laugher dragging the rest of the Losers from doing their own things to watch Richie and Eddie start wrestling on the clubhouse floor.</em>
</p><p>Eddie snaps away from the memory like a quick kick to the chest, he shakes himself off while crossing his arms, “Fine,” he agrees before turning to look at Richie, “But you’ll have to do everything I ask you to do.”</p><p>Richie huffs out a laugh, “Eds relax, I was taught by the best.”</p><p>Eddie rolls his eyes and glares at Richie, “And who’s that? Some doctor you’ve seen on TV?”</p><p>“Nah man, just you,” Richie admits with a small laugh.</p><p>Uncrossing his arms, Eddie looks down at the ground, “Oh.”</p><p>            Richie not realizing Eddie’s inner dilemma, he sits down on the bar stool next to the other man, “Alright, here look at me,” he says while Eddie does what he asked.</p><p>            Hand hovering above Eddie’s face, Richie quickly cups the other man’s face before anyone could tell him differently. He turns Eddie’s injured cheek towards him and fights against the urge to start crying due to the amount of trust the other man is putting into Richie.</p><p>            “Did any of the stitches tear?” Eddie asks Richie, pulling the man out of his thoughts.</p><p>            Richie leans in for a closer look before pulling back, he pokes at one of the stitches before pulling back once Eddie lets out a hiss of pain, “Sorry, uh I don’t think so,” He says with a nervous chuckle that earns him a slight kick to the leg from Eddie, “What do you think Bill?”</p><p>            “F-Fine, it’s only bleeding a little bit,” Bill says.</p><p>            The rest of the losers come up and inspect the stitching and say the same thing.</p><p>            “Are you sure you don’t want to just go to the hospital?” Asks Beverly, receiving a look at that could kill anybody but Beverly from Eddie.</p><p>            “I’m fine!” Eddie argues, “Besides my cheek, I’m perfectly fine!” He adds when Richie goes to poke at his cheek again.</p><p>            “Alright, alright,” Concedes Beverly, “But if anything starts hurting or if <em>that</em> gets worse we’re taking you to the hospital.”</p><p>            Knowing that it’s a battle he’s going to lose, Eddie gives into Beverly, knowing that if their roles were swapped he’d drag her to the nearest medical facility the second he learned she was alive.</p><p>            “Now that we got that out of the way,” Richie starts, “Can I keep fixing your face?”</p><p>            “Yes fine, just be careful cleaning it,” Eddie says, “Dab at it okay, don’t fucking rub it with your freakishly large ape hands.”</p><p>            “<em>My</em> hands are normal,” Richie argues as he unpacks the kit, “<em>You’re</em> the one with freakishly small baby hands.”</p><p>            “I might have to be with Eddie on this one Rich,” Mike says as he leans against the bar, “I have some pretty big hands and I think yours might be bigger.”</p><p>            “Alright wow, um fuck you Mikey,” Richie says with a mock gasp, “But fine, that’s okay, because you know what they say about big hands—”</p><p>            “It’s big feet dumbass,” Cuts in Eddie.</p><p>            “That’s stupid, feet are gross,” Richie argues as he pours some peroxide on a sterile cotton swab, “Too much this stuff won’t like kill you right?”</p><p>            “You’re not going to try and drink that are you Rich?” Questioned Ben.</p><p>            Richie turns to give Ben a look that could only mean to ‘shut the fuck up’, “No, Ben, I just remember reading somewhere that like this stuff kills the good bacteria—the shit we need to keep living the way we do.”</p><p>            The Losers give Richie a response he wasn’t looking for as they just remain quiet.</p><p>            “What? C’mon there’s like good and bad bacteria, it’s like Yin and Yang but inside of our bodies and that’s what keeps us all alive. It’s interesting fucking stuff alright!” Richie exclaims, trying to defend himself.  </p><p>            “You sound like a fucking kids health video from the fifth grade,” Stated Eddie.</p><p>            “Are you shitting me,” Richie says as he sets down the bottle of peroxide, “Only you would make that sort of connection. You probably like jacked off to those videos.”</p><p>            Eddie kicks Richie’s leg, “No,” he says pointing a finger at Richie, “<em>No</em>,” he says waving a finger at the rest of Losers who’re laughing, “I did not! And peroxide will not kill me okay! Just fucking clean my shit so I don’t die from some blood infection in my sleep.”</p><p>            “Okay, okay,” Richie agrees while laughing at Eddie’s red face. He picks up the cotton swap and holds it up to Eddie’s face, “Are you going to hold still for your nurse now Mr. Kaspbrak? Or do we need some assistance from another nurse?” He teases.</p><p>            “Shut up, fuck you, or I will do this my fucking self,” Says Eddie as he tries to take the swab from Richie.</p><p>            Richie catches Eddie’s hand and holds it still, “Hey, come on, I’ll do it alright and if you want I’ll even shut the fuck up too,” Richie replies with a laugh before giving Eddie a serious look, “Let me help you Eddie, okay? I’ll do whatever you want me to do alright?”</p><p>            Eddie stares back into Richie’s eyes before nodding and motioning with his head for Richie to let go of his hand, which the other man does but drops it like it was infected itself.</p><p>            “Cool, now hold still,” Richie tells Eddie as he starts gently dabbing at the other man’s wound, “Is it okay if I wipe the blood away?”</p><p>            Feeling the eyes of the other Losers on him and Richie, Eddie swallows down his nervousness of being <em>known</em>. “Go ahead,” He simply says.</p><p>            Richie hides his urge to frown by letting out a soft chuckle.</p><p>            “What’s funny?” Eddie asks Richie.</p><p>            “Just that the tables have turned,” Richie says as he more pours peroxide on another swab before dabbing at and around Eddie’s wound, “Looks like I gained my PhD in being a doctor in the last twenty-seven years.”</p><p>            “Having a PhD means you are a doctor asshat, not that you have a PhD in <em>being</em> a doctor,” Eddie explains, “Do you even have a degree in like anything?”</p><p>            “Besides being a kind of shitty comedian?” Beverly interjects, “I mean it with love, Richard really.”</p><p>            “Is this what this hellish reunion has turned into? A Richie Tozier roast?” Richie says as he gives Eddie the finishing touches with the peroxide, “Because you guys might have to try just a little bit harder, I eat wicked burns for breakfast. That’s the life of having no idea how to make my DM’s on twitter private.”</p><p>            “You d-don’t know how to make your DM’s on private?” Bill asks, “H-how do you even live like that?”</p><p>            “I just do okay?! It’s not all that bad, sometimes people sent me memes that genuinely make me want to piss myself,” Richie says trying to justify his behavior.</p><p>            Ben shakes his head, “This conversation has so many dimensions that I don’t want to even know about.”</p><p>            Richie throws his head back in laughter, “We’re just getting started Benny-Boy,” He winks before continuing, “But I agree, the ‘Richie Roast’ is over and I have to finish up fixing up my patient,” Richie admits as he turns back around to face Eddie.</p><p>            “Can you just put the bandage on my face already Mr. PhD in being a doctor?” Challenged Eddie.</p><p>            “Hey, what did I say about the ‘Richie Roast being over—”</p><p>            “Please stop calling it that—”</p><p>            “What’s it’s the truth, especially if you’re going to keep insulting the <em>doctor</em> helping you out today—”</p><p>            “You are not my doctor!”</p><p>            “Then why am I doing what your doctor would do?”</p><p>            Suddenly a phone rings, interrupting the downward spiral that Eddie and Richie are falling into.</p><p>            Beverly’s head whips up towards the stairs, “That’s mine. You two,” she says pointing towards Eddie and Richie, “Don’t make a mess.”</p><p>            “We’re forty years old Bevvy,” Richie points out.</p><p>            “I’ll be right back,” Beverly replies as she gives Ben a quick kiss to the cheek that leaves the man blushing, before heading upstairs.</p><p>            “I meant to say this earlier Ben, but you’re a lucky man,” Richie admits, “But she’s also a lucky woman so…”</p><p>            “Uh, Thanks Rich?” Answers Ben.</p><p>            “Can you please put the fucking bandage on my face now?” Speaks up Eddie.</p><p>            Richie turns back around to Eddie, “Fine, Fine, bossy-pants,” he says as he picks up a square of cut gauze, “Do I just put it on, and it sticks?”</p><p>            “No, Rich you have to tape it on with medical tape,” Sighs Eddie, as the day starts to hits him with a wave of exhaustion.  </p><p>            “Hmm, sounds sticky,” Richie says with an eyebrow wriggle.</p><p>            Eddie groans but lets out a small laugh as he looks up at Richie’s face.</p><p>            Which Eddie hasn’t let himself do since he got back, and he blames his lack of self-control on how tired he is. But as he lets himself nearly study the other man’s face—the furrowed brow as he concentrates putting on the gauze just right, the beginnings of a beard, the almost too-large glasses that used to look childish now emphasizing Richie’s eyes.</p><p>            Eddie knows he loves this man—loved him since they were both boys—but now, even after twenty-something years, Richie is still Richie.</p><p>            But is Eddie still Eddie?</p><p>            He has a wife of five years, a pretty-solid life in New York, and a job he’s alright at.</p><p>            And Richie?</p><p>            He’s single (as far as Eddie knows), has a whole life as a celebrity in Los Angeles, and is a fucking comedian.</p><p>            Eddie died, he said his deepest secret as he was dying, and Richie hasn’t even made a reference to it.</p><p>            Eddie lived, and Richie is joking with him, taking care of him.</p><p>            Eddie likes to think he might’ve become a better version Eddie since they were kids.</p><p>            He likes to think he’s gotten a little bit better about being a hypochondriac. A little bit better about being able to express himself.</p><p>A little bit better at being a better person.</p><p>            Eddie likes to think about what if Richie loved him back—even if it was just a little bit.</p><p>            But Richie is still Richie.</p><p>            And Eddie is in love with him.</p><p>“Hey Eddie? Eds, Eduardo, Eddie-Spaghetti, Zom-Buddy—” Rambles Richie as he names almost every nickname he can think of.</p><p>            Blinking fast, Eddie snaps out of his thoughts, “Sorry Rich, guess I’m tired,” Wearily explains Eddie.</p><p>            Hearing Eddie’s tired tone, Richie frowns, “Oh, well just wanted to let you know I finished fixing up your noggin. Now, you’re all in one piece again Mr. Dumpty.”</p><p>            Eddie quirks a brow, “Did you just compare me to a fucking egg?”</p><p>            “Yeah, even comedians can stop being funny,” Richie says.</p><p>            Eddie smiles, “You’re never funny.”</p><p>            “Ouch, Eds, really my heart can only take so much,” Replies Richie as he clenches his hand where his heart is.</p><p>            “Oh, my bad, let me rephrase,” Eddie says, “You’re hilarious,” he starts, “But, only when you’re passed out and snoring on a couch two sizes too small.”</p><p>            “Careful Eddie, my manager might make you take my job,” Warns Richie as he starts putting away the first aid kit.</p><p>            “You wish, I’m much funnier than you,” Eddie laughs to himself, and looks around the living area and finding it empty besides him and Richie, “Where did the other guys go?”</p><p>            Finishing throwing away the used swabs, Richie zips up the kit and slides it over to Eddie, “Oh yeah, I think they went to the kitchen or something?”</p><p>            “You think? Also, this place has a kitchen?” Questions Eddie.</p><p>            “Crazy right? It’s almost like this is a normal—though rotten—house turned into a creepy bed and breakfast,” Sarcastically says Ritchie.</p><p>            “Funny,” Eddie tells the other man as he sends him a glare, “Is Bev still upstairs?”</p><p>            “Yep, it’s truly just you and me. Richie and Eds back together after twenty-seven years!” Richie replies as he pulls Eddie into a side hug.</p><p>            “How have you <em>not</em> changed?” Eddie asks moving out of Richie’s arms, worried that in his sleep addled state he might do something that could potentially ruin everything that he’s been missing for the last two decades.</p><p>            Richie smiles and in spite of himself, Eddie smiles back.</p><p>            “Guess forgetting most of your developmental years might do that to you,” Richie says shrugging, “But come on, you love me,” he adds, wiggling is finger in the shorter man’s face.</p><p>            Eddie slaps Richie’s hand away, “Stop that,” he says, poorly schooling away his smile, “Seriously Rich, how would you feel if I did that to you?”</p><p>            “Wouldn’t care,” Richie replies, as he pokes Eddie’s shoulder, “C’mon, just say that you love me,” he continues even though he knows it’ll backfire on him.</p><p>            Richie knows that he’s being annoying, maybe a little on the touchy side, but he saw the love of his life die a hundred plus times just a couple of hours ago.</p><p>            So, what if he wants to hear Eddie tell him he loves him. Richie already knows the other man does; he <em>knows</em> that Eddie loves <em>all</em> of the Losers, he wouldn’t have stayed this long if he didn’t.</p><p>            But the problem, the <em>big</em> difference between the love that <em>Eddie</em> has for Richie and the love that <em>Richie</em> has for Eddie—is that well…Richie is <em>in </em>love with Eddie.</p><p>            He may have forgotten Eddie that even existed, he might have forgot the childhood they shared together—clown trauma included.</p><p>Yeah, Richie might have forgotten a lot of things besides <em>just</em> Eddie.</p><p>            Yet, the second he caught sight of the less cute but even <em>hotter</em> adult version of his first and maybe even only love…well…something clicked within Richie.</p><p>            And maybe it scared him, the burning he felt—as cliché as it sounds. And the ugly shame that came with it. Besides that, Richie knew that he was and <em>still</em> is in love with Eddie.</p><p>            But, in the end, Richie is just thankful that his heart didn’t actually die along with the man who unintentionally stole it all those years ago.  </p><p>            Eddie rolls his eyes in an attempt to cover up the tight feeling occurring within, he brushes away Richie’s hand, “Fine, Fine,” he agrees before falling silent.</p><p>            Seeing Eddie’s hesitation, Richie pushes down his own emotions wanting to crawl up his throat, “I mean,” he laughs to cover up his nervousness, “If I’m really that annoying you don’t have too—"</p><p>             “I love you,” Eddie interrupts before he could filter out the complicated emotional tone that came with the not-confession.  </p><p>            Richie looks down at Eddie with a surprised expression.</p><p>            Eddie looks away to the side, “You’re like a brother to me,” he says cringing as he does, “You’re my best friend,” Eddie corrects, trying to salvage the situation as blood rushes into his cheeks   </p><p>            Looking down, Richie silently composes himself before making himself laugh awkwardly, “Um, yeah, me too man,” he says, “Best buds for life right? You and me, and the rest of the Losers of course.”</p><p>            Eddie stiffly nods and pulls away from Richie, cursing himself internally for the complete one-eighty the conversation went through, “I gotta get some sleep,” Eddie admits, “Thanks for helping with my…stab-wound.”</p><p>            Richie’s face falls, “Of course dude! I better get some sleep too,” he says as he scratches the back of his neck.  </p><p>            Eddie gives Richie one last look as he leaves the living area, but before he can really put any distance between him and Richie, Beverly runs down the townhouse stairs, nearly running Eddie over.</p><p>            Stabilizing both Beverly and him, Eddie puts his hand on her shoulder, “Bev, what’s wrong are you okay?”</p><p>            Beverly shakes her head, her cropped hair dramatically swaying side to side, “W-Where are the others?” she asks breathlessly.</p><p>            Eddie sends Richie a confused glance, the other man walking towards him and Beverly.</p><p>            “They are in the kitchen, getting a late-night snack,” Richie answers as he tries to meet Beverly’s eyes, “Uh, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He calmly asks her.</p><p>            “He’s alive,” Beverly says.</p><p>            Richie and Eddie look at each other, “If you’re talking about Eddie, he’s right here, we already know he’s alive,” Says Richie.</p><p>            “Stanley,” She rasps out.</p><p>            Eddie’s eyes widen, “Stanley, h-he’s alive?”</p><p>            Beverly nods her head so hard it looks painful. She wraps the two men into a tight hug before racing towards the kitchen.</p><p>            Frozen side by side, Richie risks looking at Eddie, “So…” he starts, “Stanley’s alive too?”</p><p>            “Seems like it,” Eddie replies meeting Richie’s gaze.</p><p>            They stare at each other longer than is considered normal to gaze into your best buds eyes.</p><p>            “Fuck this town, and fuck that clown right?” Richie says laughing.</p><p>            “Right,” Eddie repeat as he laughs alone.</p><p>            They laugh until there’s tears in their eyes, they laugh until they can no longer stand and basically pass out the second they sit down onto the stale sofa cushion.</p><p>With Eddie’s head tucked into the other man’s shoulder, and Richie’s arm wrapped protectively around Eddie, the night ends on a high note to a very sour day.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Typical Rom-Com Airport Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The new beginnings of an old life.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Long-ish chapter again sorry not sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with?” Richie asks trailing behind Eddie, “I know you’ve been like living in New York for years and Beverly lives there too,” he continues as he pulls his luggage closer to him, “But her and Ben fucked off to some state even more boring than Maine! Can you believe that?”</p><p>            “I’ll be fine Rich,” Eddie says, “And Beverly will be back in like a week, she <em>still</em> lives <em>in</em> New York.”   </p><p>            “That’s still a week alone in the big apple!” Richie replies earning a scoff from Eddie.</p><p>            “I’m not alone,” States Eddie, not wanting to bring up his fucking <em>wife</em> in front of the man he’s willing to divorce said wife for.</p><p>            Richie presses his lips together, “Sorry forgot about your <em>mom</em>—oh my bad, I meant to say your <em>wife</em>,” he continues, trying his hardest not to let his anger towards the women in Eddie life—<em>excluding Beverly</em>—show on his face.</p><p>            After Beverly had rushed past him and Eddie with the news of Stanley’s own un-death, and them falling victim to their emotional and physically taxing day by passing out in the most uncomfortable sofa <em>ever. </em></p><p>            They had woken up the next morning with the rest of the Losers looking much better than the day before with smiles on their faces and phones in their hands.</p><p>            After Eddie threatening to quote; “I’m going to fucking strangle the thing you most love in the world to death with my bare hands if you don’t delete those pictures! You hear me! I’m not fucking kidding, I swear to god if I find out any those pictures still exist, nothing you love is safe from me.”</p><p>            Which Ben replied with, quote; “Isn’t strangling something already killing it? I mean if you’re going to strangle something to <em>death</em>, isn’t that like an overkill?”</p><p>            Then unable to stop himself, Richie said, quote; “Oh my poor innocent Benjamin, has nobody told you about the wonderful experience that is being strangled <em>sexily</em>?”</p><p>            Which made everyone at once say, quote: “Beep, Beep Richie,” and that caused the conversation at hand to end.</p><p>            Eddie turns around and pins Richie with a look, “That joke is getting old already, I regret even talking to you about her.”</p><p>            That morning after the Losers deleted only <em>some</em> of the pictures they took of Richie and Eddie snuggled <em>closer</em>than two peas in a pod. The Losers started making plans to either go visit Stan like Mike and Bill booked tickets for or go home and recuperate from this nightmare of a weekend.</p><p>Patty—Stanley’s wife, had told Beverly the night before that the doctors were holding Stan for all sorts of tests as showing up unannounced to his own front porch after being legally declared dead is medically impossible and just straight-up fucking insane to anybody <em>but</em> the Losers.</p><p>            With that, Stan’s visitor list is significantly shortened to his wife and immediate family. And seeing that Mike and Bill were probably the most sensible choice to go and tell Stan—and Patty, if she could handle it—about what went down in Derry.</p><p>            Richie stops in his tracks, “Hey, come on,” he says catching Eddie’s arm.</p><p>            After the Losers booked all their tickets—the urge to get the hell out of Derry as fast as they could too strong to ignore. Mike and Bill went back to the library to pack a bag to take to Georgia, as the remaining Losers, Beverly, Ben, Richie and Eddie stayed back to keep packing up their luggage and piling it all in the townhouse living area.</p><p>            After a while, Ben and Beverly went to go pick-up some brunch they ordered, leaving Eddie and Richie completely alone.</p><p>            Richie had begun to say something that probably was going to be some shitty attempt at clearing the air, but before he could get the joke out, Eddie started gesturing crazily towards the water-logged ceiling and ranting about the things he finally started coming to terms with.</p><p>            Besides the dying, and then <em>not</em> being dead, Eddie started talking about his life in New York.</p><p>            It was like something flipped inside him; Eddie couldn’t stop rambling about everything he hated about living in New York—especially how his relationship with Myra has changed in the last five years.</p><p>            “I’m glad you told me,” Richie admits letting go of Eddie’s arm, “It just further proved what I've been saying since we were kids.”</p><p>            Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Don’t fucking say it,” he says with a warning tone.</p><p>            Pausing, Richie looks up towards the terminal’s ceiling, actually weighting the consequences of continuing.</p><p>            “You’re a mama’s boy,” Continues Richie.</p><p>            Eddie starts walking away from the other man.</p><p>            Richie adjust his glasses before grabbing his suitcase and chasing after Eddie, as the shorter man is already halfway across the terminal, “Hey wait Eds, I take it back! <em>I </em>was <em>your</em> mama’s <em>boy-toy</em>! Eddie!”</p><p>            It was a hours after Bill and Mike had returned from the library with Beverly and Ben coming back to the townhouse with bags of much-needed food. With stomachs full of greasy food, the Losers started putting away the luggage in their respective cars.</p><p>After that, the Losers made their way to the nearest airport and started bidding each other goodbye as their flights came in.</p><p>            Ben and Beverly had lucked out and bought tickets to a last-minute flight to Nebraska which confused the Losers until Ben mentioned he had a house out in the woods.</p><p>Richie had joked that it was more creepy than romantic to have a cabin out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere—in Nebraska no less. Causing Beverly to elbow Richie in his apparently still <em>really </em>sore ribs, he hid his grunt of pain with a laugh as he gathers Ben and Beverly in an uncomfortable hug on his part.</p><p>            Bill and Mike, like Eddie and Richie had to wait until the sun was down to start boarding the plane. The four men had wandered the decently sized airport for a while after Ben and Bev had left with glassy eyes. There was an absence they all felt, though it felt like a paper cut compared to the gaping wound they had all shared when they thought Stan and Eddie were dead.</p><p>With time to waste between Bill and Mike’s own departure, the four of them found a place inside the airport that served alcohol where they all shared a farewell drink.</p><p>            Before they had all left the townhouse, Eddie nearly had a stroke when he couldn’t find his wallet or his phone. He searched all his luggage which took a long time since Eddie wouldn’t let anyone help him due to the system he had when it came to packing his suitcases.</p><p>Then, when he couldn’t find it his in luggage, the Losers worried that Eddie’s stuff was at the bottom of what used to be the Neibolt house. In the end, Bill was the one to find Eddie’s wallet and a very water damaged phone in Richie’s jacket.</p><p>A jacket that they all thought Richie had left with Eddie down in the caves.</p><p>            The Losers knew they were all going to talk more in depth as to what happened <em>after</em> they caught Stanley up.</p><p>Because some things weren’t adding up. They thought things were supposed to start making after defeating Pennywise. Instead, they had more questions than ever, and they didn’t know who to ask if none of them had answers to give.</p><p>Catching up to Eddie, Richie holds his arm close to his chest as it burns more with a <em>painful</em> feeling than a <em>lovey </em>feeling—he knows the difference by now.</p><p>            “Eds! I’ll be serious, I take it back alright!” Insists Richie, trying but failing to catch Eddie’s eye, “Hey, Eddie c’mon man!”</p><p>            Eddie ignores Richie as he checks his ticket and then the gate number hanging above him. Seeing that it is his gate, he checks the time on his watch and realizes he still has about fifteen-something minutes before he can start boarding.</p><p>            “Eddie please,” Richie says moving to stand in front of Eddie, “I’m super glad you told me about your mid-life crisis! I mean all of the Losers are going through one right now, so before you tell me shut up for not taking this serious—I am.”</p><p>            Eddie relents and looks up at Richie, “I married my mom Richie.”</p><p>            “Maybe…?” Replied Richie, which wasn’t the true answer he wanted to give.</p><p>            Sending Richie another exasperated look, Eddie tries to move past the other man.</p><p>            Richie stops Eddie as he sets his hand on his shoulder before pulling away, “Look, I’ll admit, it’s a little fucked up you found a woman <em>like</em> your mom and then <em>married</em> her,” He says honestly, “But I’m glad you literally unloaded and rambled your little heart out about what’s going on in this head of yours,” Richie tells Eddie as he taps the man’s head before continuing, “With that, I think it would be a good idea for me to come with you to New York.”</p><p>            Eddie thinks is so unfair for Richie to be <em>this</em> fucking nice to him—especially since this whole argument had started because Eddie’s too damn stubborn to let the man he’s stupidly is in love with help him go through what will be a very messy divorce.</p><p>            But the thing is, Richie doesn’t know that Eddie is going to divorce Myra.</p><p>Eddie had told him back in the townhouse kitchen that he’s not happy with Myra—hasn’t been happy with her for a very long time.</p><p>And maybe the logical conclusion that <em>any</em> of the Losers would come to after hearing about Eddie’s unhealthy relationship with Myra, is that he <em>should </em>divorce a woman he’s clearly <em>not</em> happy with.</p><p>Sure, Eddie has <em>some</em> love for Myra even now that he realized she’s like a carbon copy of his mother. But Eddie has been with Myra long before they got married—almost ten years in fact, which is a very long time to be with a person and <em>not</em> have some sort of connection with.</p><p>Yet, he <em>now</em> knows that he wasn’t <em>in</em> love with her, knows now that he never really loved her in <em>that</em> way.</p><p>Eddie thinks he doesn’t even love her like he loves the Losers—<em>his family</em>.</p><p>And as cheesy as it is, Eddie thinks he lost the true meaning of loving somebody the day he left his <em>real</em> family behind—left <em>Richie </em>behind.  </p><p> “Look Rich I’m fine—”</p><p>“I can cancel my flight to LA,” Richie interrupts, “And if I can’t get a ticket for today, I’ll wait for tomorrow to catch a flight—”</p><p>“Richie, I can handle Myra by myself—”</p><p>“I know you can, trust me I know,” Laughs Richie, interrupting Eddie again, “Yet, there’s power in numbers? Strength in numbers? Whichever one it is—”</p><p>“Richie!—”</p><p>“I mean I would only like stay for only a couple hours, she’s <em>your</em> wife man, not mine—”</p><p>“I’m fine Richie! You are right, she is my <em>wife</em>. I can take care of myself!” Eddie exclaims, fed up with Richie interrupting him.</p><p>Richie takes a step back from Eddie unconsciously, his mouth shutting closed with an audible click.</p><p>Eddie surprised by his own volume looks around the terminal to see if anybody is looking at them before turning back to Richie with an apology hanging off the tip of his tongue.</p><p>Before Eddie can say anything, Richie laughs. But it’s not his usual ‘I’m laughing because I’m nervous’ but it sounds less anxious and more…<em>sad</em>.</p><p> “I just wanted you know I got your back dude, jeez. I would’ve even paid for your ticket too, missed opportunities man, missed opportunities,” Richie answers, glancing up at Eddie before staring at the polished airport floor.</p><p>Eddie grips his suitcase handle, “I didn’t mean to say it like that cheese-dick,” he says, trying to make it less tense seeing that Richie is trying too.</p><p>“Cheese-dick sounds like it would be a joke candle I’d give to Stan for Hanukkah,” Richie admits, meeting Eddie’s eyes after a second, “You think I could order him one? As a ‘Hey! Glad you’re not dead!’ gift? Or is that like a super insensitive thing to do?”</p><p>            Shocked by the questions Richie just stacked onto him, Eddie laughs a little too loud for the airport’s volume standard.</p><p>            “You thought that was funny? Jeez, Eds who’s the insensitive one now?” Richie chuckles along, lightly pinching the uninjured part of Eddie face.</p><p>            Richie chuckles becomes a full-hearted laugh when Eddie flicks at his hand.</p><p>            “Dickhead,” Says Eddie still smiling.</p><p>            A couple of seconds pass and Eddie checks his watch again and curses when he realizes the time, “Shit.”</p><p>            “You gotta go?” Richie asks chewing on his lip as he shoves his hands in his pockets.</p><p>            Eddie nods, “Yeah, I just remembered how much I hate flying. It’s like a—”</p><p>            “It’s like a germ-infested steel coffin with fancy wings,” Richie interrupts, “I know the speech by now,” he says smiling.</p><p>            “Ah, well yes,” Eddie says fumbling with his words, “It still true,” he insists.</p><p>            Another round of silence falls between the two of them.</p><p>            “I—”</p><p>            “You—”</p><p>            They say over each other.</p><p>            “What the fuck?” Richie laughs, “This is like every fucking rom-com airport scene but neither of us are Tom Hanks,” he jokes, taking a risk comparing him and Eddie to romantic comedy.</p><p>            Eddie laughs along but his face betrays him when he feels blood rush upwards,  “Tom Hanks? That’s the only guy you can think of that it’s in romantic comedies. What about Julia Roberts?”</p><p>            “She’s not a guy!” Richie teases.</p><p>            “Fuck you, I just meant that she’s in a lot of rom-coms too!”</p><p>            “Like super old ones!”</p><p>            “And Tom Hank isn’t?” Eddie argues, “Also, <em>we’re</em> old!”</p><p>            “Maybe <em>you</em> feel old, but—”</p><p>            Eddie groans, “Shut up Richie! Oh my god, fuck it I’m getting on that plane whether or not it’s ready.”</p><p>            “Nooo, Eddie we got like five minutes,” Richie says with an over-exaggerated pout, “And with <em>Myra</em> who knows how long it’ll take to pop all the bubble wrap you’ll be wearing. Might be awhile till I get to see my Zom-Buddy again,” he adds, sending Eddie a beaming smile.</p><p>            “Oh, fuck you Trashmouth!” Curses Eddie although he’s unable to stop himself from smiling.</p><p>            Eddie pauses as he looks into Richie’s eyes, “Alright, I’m going to be serious for a second,” he tells him, “So, get all your jokes out now or I swear I’ll <em>make</em> my flight take off early.”</p><p>            Richie composes himself quickly, but keeps the smile on his face, “And ‘your wife is really your mother’ jokes are on the table? Because, I have this one joke that I was telling Bill earlier where I realized that I’m not the only ‘mother-fucker’ in the Losers club anymore—”</p><p>            “Alright! Deals off the table!” Eddie declares as he bundles all his luggage and starts dragging it behind him towards him gate.  </p><p>            “H-Hey!” Richie says while laughing, “You said get all your jokes out, and I’ve been workshopping that one—”</p><p>            Eddie turns around, “Better keep working on in then,” he says with a quick smile.</p><p>            Richie laughs again and walks over to where Eddie is standing a couple of feet away, “You’re lucky that was my last joke—”</p><p>            “Forever? Thought I’d never see this day come,” Sarcastically interrupts Eddie, “Hmm, guess you better fine another job since comedians need jokes to actually be funny.”</p><p>            “Or I can get somebody to write jokes for me,” Richie replies, finding this Eddie ridiculously funny and even more attractive—which is very unfair to his heart <em>and</em> his dick.</p><p>            “Guess you forgot you already got somebody to do that for you.”</p><p>            Richie smiles and shakes his head, “Part two to the ‘Richie Roast’ has now started,” he says doing a horrible impersonation of a sport announcer, “In this corner, we have Edward Eleanor Kaspbrak—”</p><p>            “<em>Not</em> my middle name—”</p><p>            “Going against two-time winner Richard Herbert Tozier—”</p><p>            “That’s not—that’s not even <em>your</em> middle name!—”</p><p>            “Dick vs. Eddie-spaghetti, who will win?” Richie finishes.</p><p>            Eddie sighs and hangs his head in frustration, “How do you not know your own middle name?”</p><p>            Richie shrugs, “To protect myself from people who steal identities.”</p><p>            He opens his mouth to argue but the decides to close it because Eddie knows this is an argument he won’t even <em>try</em>to win.</p><p>            <strong><em>“Flight to New York City, Gate A-zero-four now boarding”</em></strong> Announces the overhead speaker.</p><p>            Eddie and Richie both look up at the speaker before their eyes meet on the way down.</p><p>            Their eyes stay locked in an unspoken conversation where neither man knows what the other is saying.</p><p>Theirs a connection without contact, a collection of thoughts without words.</p><p>Eddie and Richie stay like that, blinking when they have to until the sound of somebodies phone ringing disrupts the connection.</p><p>They look over as a man pick up the phone with a; “Hello?”</p><p>Richie looks back at his own luggage making sure it’s still there before looking back at Eddie, seeing the furrowed expression of Eddie’s face, Richie quirks a brow, “Something wrong?”</p><p>“Just I…I’m—” Eddie pauses, struggling to form in thoughts into words, “I’m—”</p><p><em>“I’m divorcing my wife because I realize that besides me marrying my fucking mother, I’ve been in a loveless marriage to a woman who’s controlled every aspect of my life even before we were married</em>—”</p><p>
  <em>“—I’m so deep in shit by being so in love with you—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“—I’m only going back to New York because I need to have some sort of closure to the life I lived before finding you and all the Losers again.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m so fucking in love with you—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“—Can you please just love me back.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m in love with you Richie, you shithead—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please—"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m—"</em>
</p><p>“I’m going to miss you, you asshole,” He says instead, “I know you wanted to come see the ‘big apple’ whatever the fuck that ever meant.”</p><p>“I’ve been to New York before Eds.”</p><p>Eddie rolls his eyes, “I fucking know that, I saw your set on TV.”</p><p>Richie’s eyes widen, “You’ve seen one of my sets?”</p><p>“Yeah, and it fucking sucked—<em>more</em> than usual,” Eddie admits flippantly.</p><p>With his mouth hanging open and looking at Eddie like he’s never seen him before, Eddie looks away towards his gate, thankful that it hasn’t closed yet.</p><p>Shaking his head, and closing his mouth, Richie follows Eddie gaze to his gate, “Here, I’ll let you go,” he says before pausing, “Just, uh call me—o-or any of the Losers. Or when you get a new phone make sure to join the group-chat that Mike made for us.”</p><p>Looking back at Richie, Eddie subtly takes in the other man’s appearance.</p><p>He’s still looking a little ragged around the edges—there’s an improvement from yesterday, but one of his frames is still cracked. Richie’s still handsome even if he looks like he’s lost a fight or two, and no matter what Richie jokes about him not growing up hot like the other Losers, Eddie has to stop himself from grabbing his shirt collar and telling Richie to shut the fuck up—tell him how <em>well</em> he’s grown into his gangly body—but Eddie can’t.</p><p>He can’t.</p><p>“I’ll probably message the chat when I get off the plane,” Eddie answers, “But I might go off-grid for a bit when I get home.”</p><p>Richie nods his head sympathetically, “The <em>wife</em>, no worries,” he says, “And…” Richie pauses, “If you want to rant and ramble at me again like an angsty teenage girl—”</p><p>Eddie flips off Richie.</p><p>“—I’m always available to lend a friend an ear,” Richie tells Eddie with a small smile.</p><p>“Thank you Richie,” Eddie thanks as his own lips curl upwards.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“Last call for flight to New York City, Gate A-zero-four now boarding”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>“Alright well,” Eddie says, “I better go.”</p><p>Richie scratches the back of his neck before sliding his hand into his pockets, “Yeah, Yeah, I better find my gate too.”</p><p>“Yeah…”</p><p>Clearing his throat, Richie pushes down the emotions swirling around in his gut, “Well, uh bye for now I guess?” he says, “Was that good? I’m terrible at goodbyes.”</p><p> Eddie chuckles, “It was fine Rich, a little forced but overall not the worst, I’d still give it a four.”</p><p>“Out of what? Ten?” Richie asks.</p><p>Eddie shrugs, “Five.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Eddie knows he has to board his plane; he knows he can’t procrastinate or prolong his unavoidable confrontation with Myra.</p><p>But fuck, he really doesn’t want to leave Richie—Eddie doesn’t want to be alone, not again.</p><p>They continue stand there awkwardly, nether of them showing any sign of movement besides breathing and blinking.</p><p>“Fuck it,” Says Richie and before Eddie can question the other man, Richie’s arms are wrapping him in a really <em>unfair</em> hug.</p><p>Eddie takes a second before tightly wrapping his own arms around Richie’s back.</p><p>“I’ll miss you too Eds,” Richie admits into Eddie hair.</p><p>Eddie stiffly pats Richie’s back, “I know, Rich.”</p><p>Richie lets out a sound that similar to a sniff, but Eddie knows Richie would never get this emotional over a simple departure between two <em>good</em> friends, right?</p><p>Right?</p><p>Pulling back from the hug, Richie lets go of Eddie, “Go catch your flight, so you won’t bitch at me for making you miss it.”</p><p>Eddie nods because for some reason his mouth feels as though its glued shut.</p><p>Richie eyes dart around the terminal, “Alright well bye—<em>again</em>.”</p><p>Eddie nods because that’s all he can do.</p><p>Richie nods back and sends him a smile than turns sad as he walks away.</p><p>Frowning himself, Eddie wordless picks up his luggage and heads towards his gate.</p><p>He keeps his head straight, his head empty of thoughts as he boards the plane. It remains that way until an elderly woman sits on his right.</p><p>“Oh, sorry to spook you Hon,” Said the woman.</p><p>Eddie shakes his head, “Uh, no worries,” he says hoping the smile he gives doesn’t resemble a wince.</p><p>Minutes pass as Eddie and the elderly woman settle into their seats. Soon, the plane starts to go down the runway and then with little turbulence, they’re up in the air.   </p><p> “Does your husband mind you traveling so much?” Asks the woman.</p><p>            Eddie’s head shoots up in surprise, “Who?”</p><p>            The lady chuckles, “The man you were with? Your husband?” she says gesturing to the ring on his finger.</p><p>Eddie studies the ring, he didn’t even realize he was still wearing.</p><p>            He mindlessly spins the band around his finger.</p><p>            His husband—<em>Richie</em>.</p><p>            Now <em>that’s</em> fucking hilarious.</p><p>            Suddenly, his thoughts rush though is head as everything he’s been drowning out starts to flow throughout his body.</p><p>            It seeps through his veins like the blood that circulates from his hands to his feet.</p><p>            It’s a natural progression, Eddie thinks to himself. To realize and then to release what he’s been feeling since coming back to Derry—since waking from that endless abyss that was death.  </p><p>            Suddenly, Eddie’s crying and some random—<em>overly polite</em>—elderly woman his rubbing his back as she whispers soothing things in his ear in an attempt to calm him down.</p><p>            It doesn’t work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Famous Comedian Richie Tozier</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Richie’s journey back to good ‘ole LA.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bold text is a text message. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie falls into one of the seats outside his gate with a heavy sigh.</p><p>            It didn’t take him long to find his gate after Eddie left. It was a fairly small airport to begin with, so Richie didn’t understand why he felt so disappointed by the obvious fact.</p><p>            Nudging his luggage with his foot, Richie sinks further into his chair, internally cursing himself for his <em>very </em>cringeworthy and kind of pathetic sendoff with Eddie. It felt rather stilted, like he broke some kind of ‘bro-code’.</p><p>It’s such a stupid thought, that Richie feels dumb for even thinking that the awkward silence that followed the hug was because him breaking some unspoken rule between two guy-friends.</p><p>When, in reality, it’s because Richie simply let his emotionally constipated monkey brain take over the steering wheel that controls such impulses and instantly backs into a wall like an inexperienced teenage driver would.</p><p>However, allowing the primate side of him take temporary control of his body <em>wasn’t</em> even the first offence that Richie committed with his latest—and maybe <em>last</em>—conversation with Eddie.</p><p>Richie knew he shouldn’t have kept comparing Eddie’s wife to his mother. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to disguise his anger towards Eddie’s mom, and his complicated <em>jealousy</em> he felt towards Eddie’s <em>wife </em>with ill-timed humor.</p><p>That was his first offence.  </p><p>Richie also knew that he shouldn’t have kept inviting himself to go with Eddie back to New York. Which Richie will admit is kind of a <em>stalker-ish</em> move, but in his case, he already has a loft in the city for when he did shows.</p><p>Overall, Richie just felt that it was weird that all of the other Losers <em>but</em> him and Eddie were paired with another Loser.</p><p>Ben and Beverly running off to some romantic cabin in Nebraska.</p><p>Bill and Mike flying to Georgia to go meet Stan and Patty.</p><p>It felt <em>off</em> to him.  </p><p>Yet, that was his <em>second</em> offence.</p><p>Richie really should’ve known that comparing him and Eddie to a scene in a romantic comedy was like bungee jumping of a cliff with a full stomach, it’s a risk that has two possible outcomes. The first being it ends with you and <em>maybe</em> others covered in good-ole’ vomit. <em>Or</em> it ends with you having a great time and a headache that trumps <em>any</em>hangover.</p><p>He doesn’t know which outcome he ended up with, but what Richie <em>does</em> know, is that it made Eddie both laugh <em>and</em> smile—so maybe the outcome is somewhere in the middle of the two.</p><p>It’s something Richie feels foolish for, so it’s still an offence—the <em>third</em> offence.      </p><p>            Then, his <em>fourth</em> and <em>final </em>offence, and what might have been the first time in his whole life where Richie didn’t express himself with a shitty joke or by running his mouth about something entirely unrelated.</p><p>            No, instead he pulled Eddie into an embrace that Richie would fight tooth nail trying to convince everybody that it was <em>better</em> than <em>any</em> sexual encounter he’s had.</p><p>            A hug that was recuperated so strongly, he would never expect that when he pulled back, Eddie would be staring at him with a shell-shocked expression.</p><p>            It was like an arrow to the gut, like a bolt of lightning that was personally shot by Zeus himself—that asshole.</p><p>            Richie tried to laugh it off, tried to <em>fix</em> the undefinable expression stuck on Eddie’s face.</p><p>            It was like Eddie suddenly turn off like a fucking robot, like a mile-high wall was magically built between them.</p><p>            In a second, Eddie was closed off. He couldn’t—<em>wouldn’t</em>—even speak to Richie.</p><p>            He had left then, not wanting to make it worse than he had already.</p><p>            A hug—the <em>fourth </em>offence and the <em>final </em>nail to his early grave.</p><p>            A fucking hug.</p><p>            Richie exhales hard through his nose as he harshly rubs a palm across the newly formed wrinkles on his forehead.</p><p>            “You’re a fucking idiot Trashmouth, fucking what were you thinking?” He mumbles, quietly berating himself.</p><p>            “’Your mom’ jokes—<em>fucking</em> Tom Hanks!?” He exclaims, “What were you thinking Richie?”</p><p>            The woman in across from his clears her throat, making Richie momentarily break away from putting himself down.</p><p>            “I’m going to have to ask you to please refrain from swearing in front of my son,” Sneered the woman, rearranging the babbling toddler all decked in blue sitting on her lap. </p><p>            Richie scoffs, “I’m <em>oh so</em> sorry,” he says, “I’ll try to have my mid-life crisis quieter next time.”</p><p>            She eyes him doubtfully, “Aren’t you that one comedian?”</p><p>            He lets out a breathy laugh, “You watch my shows?” Richie asks.</p><p>            The woman’s lips curl up in disgust, “No, but my husband does, he <em>adores </em>them,” She admits with a grimace, “I personally think that your material doesn’t hold women in high regards.”</p><p>            Richie holds up an imaginary cup, and nods, “Cheers, I a hundred percent agree with you, I think I’ll have to start writing my own stuff again.”</p><p>            “I highly doubt that it would be any better than the garbage that you currently spew,” The woman tells him.</p><p>            Richie snorts, “Thank you.”</p><p>            The woman frowns, “It <em>wasn’t</em> a compliment.”</p><p>            <strong><em>“Flight to Los Angeles, Gate C-zero-nine is now boarding” </em></strong>Announces the robotic sounding voice from earlier. </p><p>            Humming out his laugh, Richie starts grabbing his luggage as he gives the woman a smile, “What’s your name?”</p><p>            She glares at Richie, “Amelia,” she says, holding her head high.</p><p>            “Nice name, reminds me of a girl that bullied my best friend Bev in high school,” Richie admits, the woman’s glare growing more intense, “What’s your sons name?”  </p><p>The woman—Amelia, pulls her son closer to her, “Digby,” She says suspiciously.</p><p>He laughs loudly.</p><p>Allison looks like she wants to spit right in Richie’s face.</p><p>Richie stands up with a groan, as his side-bag hits his overly-sensitive spot side, “It was very nice to meet you Amelia,” he says to her, “And Digby, good luck, ” he continues nodding down to the babbling baby, “Want me to autograph something for your husband?”</p><p>“No, in fact I don’t think he’ll be a fan of yours much longer.”</p><p>Richie shrugs, “Cool,” he says smiling</p><p>He starts walking away from Amelia and Digby, but before he gets very far, he stops and turns around, “One more thing,” speaks up Richie.</p><p>            Amelia’s glare hardens once again, “What?”</p><p>            “Before you go and tell your husband about me, you should know one more thing that would <em>really</em> make him hate my me,” Richie says.</p><p>            Her eyes narrows with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, “And what would that be?”</p><p>            Richie smirks, “Tell him that his favorite comedian is a <em>ragging</em> homosexual.”</p><p>            Amelia gasps dramatically and covers her sons ears.</p><p>            Laughing, Richie bids the two of them goodbye, “It was wonderful talking to you!”</p><p>            As he walks up the tunnel towards his plane, Richie thinks about why he felt so compelled to tell a clearly homophobic random woman something he hasn’t even really admitted to himself yet.</p><p>            Richie tells himself it was to mostly mess with Amelia, but he knows that deep down, it was more than pissing off a very unpleasant woman.</p><p>            He’s gay, <em>very gay</em>.</p><p>            And <em>very</em> much in love with one Eddie Kaspbrak.    </p><p>Richie slept for most of the flight back to LA. He had woken up due to turbulence with two hours left before touching down at LAX, but the discomforting stemming from the pain in his side and the ache in his back, kept him from falling back asleep.</p><p>             Within those two hours, Richie caught sight of Amelia and Digby, which made him both oddly nervous and somewhat proud. However, Richie had also caught her eye, resulting with her staring at the back of his head for what felt like the remainder of the flight.</p><p>            The nervousness he felt had overwhelmed the pride and together it melted in a sick feeling in his gut.</p><p>            The sickness and the ache in Richie’s back was numbed by the distraction thankfully provided by the passenger sitting next to him.</p><p>            Richie normally wouldn’t talk to the person sitting next to him—<em>especially,</em> if they were a fan of his. He didn’t like a majority of his fans, as a lot of his work was less ‘ha-ha that’s clever!’ funny, and more ‘I think women suck and hey, here’s another fart joke!’ funny.</p><p>            He thinks firing his writers and finding a new manager would be a good place to start when he tries to piece back together the life that was completely shattered by his return to Derry.     </p><p>With Amelia’s glare making Richie feel like he was mentally getting crucified, he ignores the voice in head that scarily sounds like his manager, who’s telling him that;<em> “it’s never good to talk to fans alone, you don’t know if they either want to kill you or fuck you, and trust me neither of those are good”</em>, Richie engages the young man sitting next to him.</p><p>Richie’s lucky that he found a fan that didn’t seem to want to do either of those things to him and was even <em>luckier</em>when the kid told Richie he only like his older work.</p><p>“How did you even find that show?” Richie asked the kid, “I haven’t performed that since what, the late nineties?”</p><p>The kid shrugged, “I found a clip on twitter,” He answered, “Later I found the full show on YouTube. You were fucking hilarious,” the kid admits.</p><p>“Huh,” Richie makes a note in his head to try and find the video when he can, “Thanks kid,” he tells the kid.</p><p> After a while, Amelia’s glare lost it’s power and Richie had what might have been the first <em>real</em> conversation with a fan since his name started gaining attention.</p><p>The conversation with the kid—<em>Griffin</em>, he was told—lasted until the pilot announced that the plane would be landing shortly.</p><p>With expected turbulence that resulted in an <em>unexpected </em>sharp pain shooting through his side, Richie made another note to make an appointment with his doctor, because that kind of ache <em>shouldn’t</em> be affecting him this seriously.</p><p>Once the plane landed and was completely stopped on the runway, Richie started grabbing his overhead luggage when an old man who looked like he should’ve been on his death bed than an airplane helped him get his suitcase down.</p><p>“Thanks,” Richie told the old man.</p><p>“What?” Loudly asks the old man while cupping his ear, “I can’t hear you sonny.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Richie says again louder, “For my suitcase,” he says gesturing to his case.</p><p>The old man smiles, revealing a mouth with no teeth, “No worries my boy!”</p><p>Richie nods and sits back down before turning towards Griffin, “I think that guy might have been <em>too</em> old,” he admits.</p><p>Griffin laughs while getting together his own luggage.</p><p>It takes a couple minutes for Richie to get off the plane, as he lets Griffin get off first while thanking him for the conversation.</p><p>“No problem! It was super cool to meet you, glad to like, <em>know</em> you’re not actually a complete douchebag,” Griffin told him honestly, which made Richie laugh for the kids boldness.</p><p>Sadly, Richie couldn’t have gotten off before Amelia which led to her walking by him with a sharp glance and a scoff.</p><p>            When he was finally off the plane, he quickly way his way to the pick-up &amp; drop-off lane and orders an Uber. While waiting, Richie sends a couple texts to the group-chat;</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>Safely got to the glorious city I so dearly missed. </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>Haven’t seen a single tourist get mugged yet, think I’ve been transported to a parallel universe. </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>I spoke too soon. </em></strong>
</p><p>Although he’s not expecting to get any responses this early in the morning, Richie hopes that when the Losers do see his texts, it’ll at least make them laugh.</p><p>            His phone sounding off a notification, Richie looks down to see that his Uber driver is on their way.</p><p>            Passing time by scrolling through twitter and sending an apology to his manager, his phone pings again as a car drives up to the curb. Richie looks down at his phone and checks the drivers name, at the same time, the car window rolls down.</p><p>            “You Richie?” Asks the driver.</p><p>            “Yep,” Richie replies leaning down to look through the window, “You April?”</p><p>            The driver—April nods while she unlocks the car, “Want to put your luggage in the trunk?” she asks.</p><p>            “Sure, thank you,” Richie says heading towards the popped trunk.</p><p>            After putting his suitcase in the trunk and making sure it’s shut, Richie slides into the backseat, “Thanks again,” he tells April as she starts to pull away from the curb.</p><p>            “It’s cool, thanks for needing an Uber,” She says in a joking tone, “Want any music?”</p><p>            Richie shakes his head, “Nah, but you can play some if want to.”</p><p>He doesn’t use driving services like Uber often, he’s either used to driving himself around or riding along with his manger somewhere. It’s awkward, the stilted small talk that happens in situations like this, Richie tries to avoid conversations that are done out of necessity rather then an actual interaction between two individuals.    </p><p>But, Richie has had <em>real</em> conversations to more people in the last ten hours then he’s had in the last three months.</p><p>Somehow, throughout all the chaotic, terrifying and life-changing bullshit that went down in Derry—the mask that Richie’s been cultivating for <em>years </em>was torn off like a week-old band aid.   </p><p>Aprils puts on some song that Richie doesn’t recognize, “This alright?” she asks him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Richie replies, “How long have you been an Uber?”</p><p>“Couple months,” She says with a laugh, “How many Uber’s have you been in?”</p><p>“Not a lot,” He says chuckling, “I take it that most people that you drive around don’t ask many questions.”</p><p>The car stops as the light turns red, “It’s mostly the drunk one’s that talk to me, or people that put off weird vibes,” April says looking up at the rear-view mirror, “But you don’t smell like you just robbed a liquor store and you have an average amount of weirdness about you.”</p><p>“Thanks?”</p><p>“Just don’t try to murder me, or whatever,” She answers making Richie’s eye’s widen, “That’s the third thing I’ve learned driving people around.”</p><p>Richie’s brows furrow, “That murder’s main mode of transportation is Uber? Because that’s something that I think they would like to keep under wraps—bad publicity.”</p><p>The light turns green and the car starts moving again, April laughs, “What are you, a manager for somebody famous?”</p><p>Richie looks out the window with a soft chuckle, “Guess you could say that,” he says as he watches the familiar buildings pass by. The city feels different to him somehow, although it’s already full of people even at seven o’clock in the morning, it feels empty, like there’s something <em>missing</em>.</p><p>“Mysterious, I like that,” She says sending him a wink through the rear-view mirror.</p><p>Laughing, Richie shifts his body away from the window, “Sorry to disappoint you April, but you’re not quite my type.”</p><p>She snickers, “Oh no disappointment at all, I got a girlfriend at home.”</p><p>Richie goes quiet at April’s admission, suddenly realizing what—or <em>who</em>—he’s missing.</p><p>Sensing the change in the atmosphere, April worries at her lip, “Sorry, too much information—”</p><p>“No, no, it’s fine,” Richie quickly says, “Sorry, I just realized something.”</p><p>“That lesbian’s exist?” She jokes, still anxiously tapping her steering wheel.</p><p>Richie laughs.</p><p>“This is so <em>weird</em>,” Admits April, as she laughs along, “Can you please promise me you’re not going to murder me, because I no longer can predict what’s going to happen next.”</p><p>“I promise I’m not going to kill you,” Vows Richie, thinking about what he wants to say next, “It’s been refreshing to know that there are others like…<em>myself</em> out in the world,” He adds before he can talk himself out of telling <em>another</em>stranger his newly-unrepressed sexuality.</p><p>He already told some random homophobic lady about his sexuality. So, why not tell somebody who’s stuck in the same boat.  </p><p>Or out of the same kind of closet.</p><p>The car goes quiet.</p><p>Richie sighs.</p><p>“You got a boyfriend waiting at home for you then?” Speaks up April.</p><p>Richie laughs sadly, “Nah,” he tells her as he looks out the window. Seeing that they’re getting pretty close to his apartment, he slings his side-bag over his shoulder.</p><p>April’s GPS on her phone pings as she pulls over.</p><p>“Thanks for the ride, <em>and</em> for the in-car entertainment,” Richie says as he pulls out his wallet, “Here, take it,” he says handing her a twenty-dollar bill.    </p><p>April turns around in her chair to fully look at Ritchie, her eyes shifting from the money in his hand to his face. She reaches out for the bill, “I’m <em>not</em> going to be that one driver who refuses the money because you’re sad,” she tells him.</p><p>Richie gives her the bill with a chuckle, “That’s good, I <em>want</em> you to have this—”</p><p>“However,” April says interrupting him, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry that <em>who </em>or <em>what</em>ever is making you sad, because you seem like a pretty okay guy,” she admits.</p><p>“I’m a complete stranger—”</p><p>April shakes her head, “You’re Richie Tozier, my dad’s favorite comedian.”</p><p>Richie closes his eyes and nods, “Ah, yeah forget that I’m famous or something.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll admit that I <em>just</em> realized who you were,” She confesses, “But before that I thought you pretty okay dude.”</p><p>“And now? Because I know my work, and I kind of know how my fans are—”</p><p>“You’re still okay,” April interrupts again, “I mean my dad has horrible taste and your jokes are bad,” she adds.</p><p>“Yeah, they are,” Richie agrees laughing.</p><p>He really needs to do something about his career <em>and </em>his reputation.</p><p>The sound of the car unlocking jerks Richie out of his thoughts, “You lock the doors?”</p><p>“Had a guy try to jump out of car because his friend dared him,” April replies.</p><p>“That’s fucking stupid,” Richie tells her.</p><p>“That’s the life of an Uber driver.”</p><p>Richie hums in response before climbing out of the car, he hisses in pain as the sensation he felt on the plane starts up again, “Fuck, I’m getting old.”</p><p>“Don’t forget your case in the trunk,” Aprils says as she pops open the trunk.</p><p>Richie salutes and moves to the back of the car and pulls out his luggage, “Thanks for reminding me,” he thanks as he moves from the trunk to the drivers side.</p><p>“Thanks for not murdering me,” Aprils replies as she rolls down her window.</p><p>Richie shuts the rear door, “Yeah, anytime.”</p><p>April’s phone pings from in the car, “Got another person to drive around?” Richie asks.</p><p>She turns off her phone, “Nah, I’ve made my girlfriend wait long enough,” April says.</p><p>“Wise choice,” Replies Richie pulling up the handle on his luggage, “This has been a very interesting morning.”</p><p>“You can say that again,” She says.</p><p>“This has been a very—”</p><p>Aprils groans, “I’m going home, nice driving you around Mr. Comedy.”</p><p>Richie laughs, “’Mr. Comedy’, I like that. Can I use it in my next show?”</p><p>“Do whatever, just please stop trying to make misogyny funny,” says April.</p><p>“Done deal,” Richie assured.</p><p>“Cool,” She says smiling, “Nice meeting you!” April add as she pulls off the curb and back into the steadily moving traffic.</p><p>Richie waves at April as her car disappears from his line of sight, he sighs and pulls out his phone, tapping on his messages before typing a new text in the group chat;</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>Did you guys know that I’m famous?</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>My Uber driver recognized me. </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>And she was a really funny lesbian! </em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You: <em>Anyways, miss you all!</em></strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Journey Home?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eddie’s journey home back NYC and Myra.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short-ish chapter but one of my personal favorite chapters! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Walking down the ramp with his bag rolling behind him, Eddie holds his breath as he crosses the final threshold between the life he rediscovered in Derry and the life he’s been living for the past twenty-years.   </p><p>            Before the Losers had all left for the airport, Eddie called Myra with the townhouse’s landline. He informed her of his flight back to New York, the departure time and his estimated arrival.</p><p>            And seeing that this was the first time Eddie had talked to his wife since his abrupt departure to Derry, Eddie had to take at <em>least</em> twenty minutes assuring Myra that he was completely <em>fine, </em>and <em>not </em>held against his will.</p><p>“<em>Myra nobody is forcing me to say that, I promise—No, my friends are not holding me against my will, I just lost my phone—Myra, listen don’t go to the police—Myra, I’m coming back to New York tonight! I promise I’m fine!—Myra!” </em></p><p>Eddie had managed to end the call with the final word.</p><p>Before he hung up however, Myra told Eddie that she was going to pick him up from the airport with an authoritative tone that left no room for any protest on Eddie’s part.</p><p>            After Eddie was done crying on the overly polite elderly woman, he had fallen asleep with the help of the soothing tea a kind flight attendant had offered him. He woke up with twenty minutes left in his flight and the beginnings of a ragging headache that was most likely caused by both stress and the metaphorical river that drowned that poor old ladies cardigan.</p><p>            Said ragging headache becoming more of a motive for second degree manslaughter with the hustle and bustle of a New York airport at three o’clock in the morning.</p><p>            Yet, even with the impossible amount of foot traffic at three AM, the sound of car horns and old shuttle busses loudly running, <em>and</em> the fact that Eddie doesn’t even have a phone to text Myra of his whereabouts—Myra still somehow knows <em>exactly</em> where Eddie is and will be at any point in time.</p><p>Eddie smiles and gives her a small wave as she stands right outside of his gate. Myra returns his silent greeting with a fresh batch of tears that start dripping from her eyes. The second Eddie crosses the barrier between his gate and Myra, she pulls Eddie into an uncomfortably restrictive hug.</p><p>Letting out a loud sob that makes nearby bystanders turn their heads towards their awkward embrace, Myra pushes Eddie at an arms length to get a good look at him.</p><p>She gasps at the ruffled bandage on his cheek, “Oh my! What happened to you?”</p><p>Eddie winces and moves away from his wife’s hand as she cups his cheek, “Myra, I’m fine—”</p><p>“You’re <em>fine</em>? Eddie honey you’re hurt!” Myra interrupts with a gobsmacked expression.</p><p>Sighing, Eddie pushes Myra’s hand away as she try’s to pick at the bandage on his face, “Yes, I only had to get a couple of stitches—”</p><p>“<em>Stitches</em>?” Blurts out Myra, her pallor turning slightly ghostly</p><p>“That is typically what happens after you get stabbed—“</p><p>“Stabbed!” Myra exclaims, suddenly looking very faint.</p><p>More heads are turned and more ears are unconsciously tuned into their conversation with Myra’s exclamation. Eddie grabs his suitcase and pulls Myra further away from his gate and out of range from any kind of audience.</p><p>            “Myra!” Eddie says trying to get Myra’s attention away from his cheek, “It’s fine, <em>I’m</em> fine—“</p><p>            “You were stabbed! My god Eddie baby, I should have never let you leave—“</p><p>            “<em>Honey</em>—“</p><p>            “You left so quickly! You barely even said a word to me before you were out the door! And you come back with a <em>stab</em> wound!?—“</p><p>            “<em>Please</em> Myra—“</p><p>            “I knew this would happen! Gosh, it‘s probably all because of <em>these</em> friends of yours!—“</p><p>            “<em>Myra</em>—“</p><p>            “Are they the one’s that <em>stabbed</em> you? They are aren’t they? They broke your phone so you couldn’t call me and you were <em>hurt</em>, how could they do this to you? Why didn’t <em>you </em>just stay home with me, you would’ve been safe!”</p><p>            Eddie sick of being interrupted, firm and yet still gentle, grabs Myra’s upper arm to stop her frantic rambling, “Stop it Myra!”</p><p>            She freezes, shocked by the way her husband is suddenly acting.</p><p>            Sighing deeply, Eddie brushes down Myra’s arm before running his fingers through his hair. “I—,” he starts to say before realizing that a new audience has started listening in, “We—We can talk more when we get back to our place.”</p><p>            Myra’s eyes meet his, but continues to remain still. Her eyes seemingly searching for the man she married all those years ago.</p><p>            She can’t find him.</p><p>            “People are starting to stare, and I promise you we’ll talk more at the apartment,” He admits as he uses his head to motion towards the exit.</p><p>            “When we get home,” She simply replies.</p><p>            His eyes switch from starring towards the exit to looking up at Myra with furrowed brows, “Huh?”</p><p>            “<em>Home</em> Eddie, when <em>we </em>get <em>home</em>,” Myra repeats herself.</p><p>He blinks before realizing his own phrasing. Eddie didn’t even know that we <em>wasn’t</em> calling the place him and Myra have been living in for the last decade as <em>home</em>.</p><p>            Looking back on in, Eddie thinks that he hasn’t seen his house as a <em>home—as <span class="u">his</span> home</em>, in a <em>long</em> time.</p><p>            Eddie shakes his head, “Y-Yes,” He agrees, “When we get <em>home</em>—we can talk, and I will try to answer whatever you questions that you must have for me.”</p><p>            Myra remains quiet.</p><p>            “It’s that alright? Myra?” Eddie asks starting to frown.</p><p>            Myra nods.</p><p>            Eddie offers a strained smile, “Great,” he replies as he starts walking towards the door leading out to passenger pick-up.</p><p>            Myra takes a second before following her a man who looks like her husband—<em>is her husband</em>. However, something <em>has </em>happened to her dear angel baby Eddie, and she prays that she’ll be able to fix him like she always <em>has</em> and always <em>will</em>.</p><p>            They made a vow to one another, as much as she is his wife.</p><p>He is her husband.</p><p>            But its not until she watches her husband put on his seatbelt does she realize that the golden wedding band that has made a home on Eddie left ring finger for the last five years is nowhere to been seen.</p><p>~</p><p>            To put it lightly, the drive back to Eddie and Myra’s shared home was awkward.</p><p>            It was stifling sort of silence, felt as though a weighted blanket full of hot coals were  smothering any kind of movement or sound that Eddie could’ve produced.</p><p>            To put it lightly, the conversation once they did arrive home was <em>disastrous</em>.</p><p>            Nearly cataclysmic and entirely inevitable.</p><p>            It had started with Myra asking Eddie about his ring the second the front door closed.</p><p>            “Where’s your ring?” She asked.</p><p>            “I took it off,” Eddie simply replied.</p><p>            “Why?” Myra questioned further.</p><p>            Eddie didn’t have it in him to lie to her.</p><p>            “Because I don’t think I should wear it anymore,” He admitted.</p><p>            Myra had to sit down.</p><p>            “<em>Why</em>?” She whispered.</p><p>            Eddie knew their was an underlining question being asked along with that response.</p><p>            He sat down next to Myra then, slowly taking her hands into his.</p><p>            “Something happened,” He started, “When I went back to Derry.”</p><p>            Myra shook her head, “I should’ve never let you go—“</p><p>            “No Myra,” Eddie interrupted, “I had to go, my friends and I made a promise to go back.”</p><p>            “But that was a <em>long</em> time ago Eddie baby,” Myra told him, “You have a life here <em>now</em>, you’re happy <em>here</em>.”</p><p>“I <em>wasn’t</em> Myra,” Eddie admitted before taking a deep breath, “I <em>wasn’t</em> and I’m still <em>not</em>,” he continued.</p><p>            “Oh <em>God</em>!” Myra sobbed before she grabbed Eddie’s good cheek, “What happened to <em>you</em>? What happened to <em>my </em>husband?”</p><p>            Eddie lifted his hand onto of Myra’s and moved it back onto her lap, “I remembered who I <em>am</em>. I forgot what I’ve done and I finally saw the person who I was supposed to become all those years ago.”</p><p>            Myra let out another sob before she blew her nose on the tissue Eddie offered her, “Then just who are you then? Where’s the man who <em>loves</em> me?”</p><p>            “I still love you Myra,” Eddie insisted, “I just—I just,” he attempted as he tried to convey his thoughts in a harmless fashion.</p><p>            “You <em>changed. </em>I saw it in your eyes the second you stopped off the plane, something happened and I didn’t—<em>I don’t</em>—know how to fix it, fix <em>you</em>,” Myra Explained.</p><p>            Eddie ducks his head to catch Myra’s eye, “You <em>can’t,</em>” he started, “Because I’m not something that’s <em>broken</em>.”</p><p>            After that admission, Myra could no longer hold back the flood of tears that break through the emotional damn she had carefully constructed on the drive home.</p><p>            Eddie held his hopefully soon-to-be ex-wife as she weeped and whimpered though the unspoken truth that Eddie was telling her.</p><p>            The feeling of guilt creeps and cripples him as his shirt became damp with Myra’s tears. He knew he could’ve broken the news to her in a less emotionally devastating fashion, but Eddie should’ve known that Myra would’ve have picked up on the slightest differences in his attitude.</p><p>            He did and still does love Myra. He still thinks that he wouldn’t have married or even stayed with her as long as he did if he didn’t have some kind of feelings for her—even if said feelings were fucked up and entirely undefinable up until his trip back to Derry.</p><p>            When Myra’s tears finally did seem to come to a stop, Eddie handed her another handful of tissues and moved a trash can to the end of sofa for her to throw them out when needed.</p><p>            Once her face was dry and the only reminder to her emotional outburst being a trash can full of used tissues and red puffy eyes, the time read on the nearest clock being nearly five o’clock in the morning.</p><p>Eddie clears his throat as stands up from the couch.</p><p>            “Um,” He starts before nervously pulling at his shirt collar, “I think that It would be best for me to stay at a hotel for the time being.”</p><p>            Myra’s eyes widen, “Oh Eddie! At the very least stay until you’re cheek is healed. You don’t know what can happen to that kind of a wound if not properly treated by a professional!”</p><p>            “I’ll be fine, I know how to take care of myself,” Eddie argues as he gets a feeling of déjà vu at his own words.</p><p>            He had told Richie the exact same thing only a couple hours ago.</p><p>            But back at the airport, the thought that Richie wasn’t confident in Eddie’s own capabilities in taking care of himself had hurt. It made Eddie doubt himself in the same way Myra had convinced him that he could <em>never </em>go be without some kind of support and <em>structure</em>.</p><p>            That hurt had melted away when he realized that it wasn’t that Richie had no faith in Eddie, but the fact that Richie didn’t want Eddie to be <em>alone. </em></p><p>He felt bad that he had even lumped Richie’s genuine concern into the same category as Myra’s constrictive and inordinate meddling.</p><p>            “Please Eddie! At least say the night it’s much to early to go out. Y-You could get hurt again and wind up in the hospital—“</p><p>            “Myra,” Eddie says, stopping Myra in the middle of her speech, “Please <em>don’t</em>.”</p><p>            She gives him one last pleading look before closing her mouth and nodding.</p><p>            Eddie softly sighs before reaching down and grabbing the same luggage he had left for Derry with. He would come back at another time and grab the rest of what Myra was willing to let him have.</p><p>            Myra watches him silently, her hands ripping her remaining tissue into little pieces that flutter down onto the floor.</p><p>            “I uh still don’t have a phone, so if you get a call from an unknown number it’s probably me,” Eddie tells her.</p><p>            Myra continues to just stare at him forlornly.</p><p>            Eddie lets out a deep breath and guides Myra off the couch, keeping one hand resting on her wrist, “I <em>am </em>sorry Myra, I really am. But I think that the both of us have known that this thing we’ve had hasn’t been healthy for either of us.”</p><p>            Myra blinks quickly and a couple of tears fall silently down her cheeks, “I <em>love</em> you Eddie, b-but I know—<em>I know</em>that what we <em>had </em>isn’t what,” She pauses, “Isn’t what either of us really deserve.”</p><p>            Eddie blinks away the wetness he feels in his own eyes, and pulls Myra into a stilted hug, “I’m sorry Myra, I’m <em>so </em>sorry.”</p><p>            Shaking her head, Myra pulls away from Eddie, “I-I think I’ll need some time to understand everything.”</p><p>            Eddie moves his arms away from Myra and shoves them into his pockets, the action remaining him of Richie. “Yeah, no, I totally get that,” He tells her as he fiddles with a familiar metallic band, “Here,” Eddie says offering out a closed hand.</p><p>            Myra’s lips trembles as she slowly reaches a palm out towards Eddie.</p><p>            Eddie clasps her hand in his before pulling back empty-handed. Subconsciously pulling his overcoat further over his chest, he once again reaches for his suit case.</p><p>            He watches as Myra continues to stare at her closed and shaking fist, Eddie coughs into his own fist to gain her attention. Once he has it, Eddie nods sadly towards the door, silently telling her that he’s leaving.</p><p>            She remains still as her eyes follow his movements, Eddie unlocks the and opens it before turning back towards Myra.</p><p>            “I’ll—,” Eddie chokes, “I-I’ll see you when you feel um…up to it,” He tells her.</p><p>            Knowing that he’s done a considerable amount of damage to Myra’s heart in such a short amount of time, Eddie also knows that the sooner he leaves, the easier it’ll be for a cleaner break between him and Myra.</p><p>            So without another word, Eddie exits the place that’s never quite been a home and closes the door behind him.</p><p>            And without looking back, Eddie ends up in the back of taxi fiddling with his naked ring finger, knowing that in the long run this is for the best.</p><p>            All the while, Myra sits alone in a dark and silent apartment with her hand held out in front of her.</p><p>            And with what little light does shine through the windows reflects off a very polished ring that resides in her palm with an almost symbolic weightlessness to it.</p><p>            With tired eyes, Eddie stares out the taxi’s window and watches the city that supposedly never sleeps start to finally wake up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The World’s Rarely On Your Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How Richie’s been since coming back from Derry.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am very sorry for not updating for like a week+, but I hope this chapter suffices.<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shooting off the bed due to the incessant ringing coming from his phone, Richie blindly reaches towards his night stand.</p><p>            “Hello?” Richie answers, rubbing at his crusty eyes.</p><p>            It had been only a couple days since Richie returned home. He and the rest of the Losers have been checking in with one another in the group chat. Except for Eddie, since he’s still using the hotel’s phone to call them.</p><p>            Bill and Mike kept them updated on Stanley, who was still in the hospital even though he wasn’t dead—<em>anymore</em>—but that however was the reason for Stanley’s extended stay at the hospital.</p><p>            Mike had told them that Stanley was pretty close to attacking his doctor if she asked for more tests.</p><p>            The Losers took that a sign towards Stanley’s good health.</p><p>            However, <em>Richie’s</em> health was in fact <em>not </em>good.</p><p>Since coming back to LA, Richie’s own wellbeing started to decline due to his mind’s inability to stay asleep and the sporadic stabbing pain in his lower back and chest.</p><p>            Richie blames his “sleeping problem” on the reoccurring memories—or <em>nightmare</em>—of Eddie dying over and over again.</p><p>            Yet, for the stabbing pain and the ache he feels in his chest, Richie blames on old age and the stress he’s been dealing with for the last week.</p><p>            Richie <em>does </em>however make a promise to himself, that if his pain <em>does </em>get an worse, he’ll schedule a doctors appointment.</p><p>            That’s what he tells himself every time the stabbing pain comes in hot and leaves like a morning fog—whatever the hell that means.</p><p>            All Richie has really cared about in the last couple days is the facts that Stanley’s alive, Eddie’s alive and <em>apparently</em> separated from his wife, and that the rest of Losers are finally starting to be happy.</p><p>            “Now you pick up!?” Screams Richie’s manager, the sudden loudness making Richie groan, “Don’t give me that! You text me that you’re ‘sorry’ and then fucking ignore me for a week?”</p><p>            “Steven man, I’ve been busy—“</p><p>            “Busy?! That’s what you call being spotted looking like shit at five in the morning buying booze and a pack of smokes?” Questions Steve, his irritation practically seeping through the phone’s speaker.</p><p>            “Fuck,” Sighs Richie as slips on his still damaged glasses, “You stalking me now Stevey?”</p><p>            “You fucking wish Tozier,” Replies Steve, not rising to Richie’s bait, “Somebody posted a picture of you on twitter. Which is the first sighting of you since you—“</p><p>            “Basically threw up on stage and fled mid-show?,” Richie finished for him, “Oh how was it refunding everyone’s tickets? Bet that was a fun shit-show to be apart of.”</p><p>            “Not everybody wanted one, not everyday do you see somebodies career take a nose dive right in front of you,” Steve admitted, “You could’ve seen yourself trending on twitter if you didn’t suddenly fall off the face of the earth and decide to live off grid for a fucking week!”</p><p>            “What was the hashtag?” Richie asks tiredly, “You would tell me if I was canceled right? Y’know being my <em>manager</em> and all.”</p><p>            Steve deeply sighs, “Christ Richie! You’re not <em>canceled—</em>don’t jinx yourself like that.”</p><p>            “Was the hashtag at least catchy? Or was it like—“</p><p>            “I don’t remember what the hashtag was Richie! I was too busy trying to save <em>both </em>of our careers,” Steve interrupts.</p><p>            Richie leans his head against his mattress and fiddles with the sheet tangled around his legs, “So, what I’m hearing,” He starts, “Is that I still have a job?”</p><p>            “That’s what I’ve been trying to fucking call you about!” Steve exclaims, “With the combination of the bad but good publicity from your last show and you being spotted walking around like a damn zombie! You’ve basically become this decades version of a ‘Britney Spears meltdown’.”</p><p>            Richie lets out a strangled chuckle, “Fucking fan-tastic,” He deadpans.</p><p>            “Are you free later today? We have a meeting with the higher-up’s about your vanishing act,” Asks Steve.</p><p>            Richie pulls back his phone and checks the time, grimacing at the numbers as they seemingly mock his non existent sleep schedule.</p><p>            He catches his reflection as his phone screen turns black.</p><p>            He’s haggard, unshaven and has a ghostly complexion.</p><p>            Richie looks worse than when he thought Eddie had died right in front of him.</p><p>            ‘<em>He did die right in front of you, you idiot,’ </em>Richie brain rudely reminds him.</p><p>            He doesn’t know why he’s like <em>this</em>.</p><p>Doesn’t know why he can’t sleep without having paralyzing nightmares that can so <em>easily</em> rip screams out of him.</p><p>He doesn’t know why he feels so <em>empty</em> every time he has to end a call with one of the Losers.</p><p>Doesn’t know why <em>everything</em> has gotten so much harder since coming back from Derry.</p><p>It was supposed to better right? He was supposed to be <em>happy</em> and living life like the rest of his friends—<em>his family. </em></p><p>Richie doesn’t know why his mind <em>and </em>body are betraying him whenever they can.</p><p>He just doesn’t <em>know. </em></p><p><em>“</em>Tozier. Richie, you still there?” Steve asks, halting Richie’s daily downward spiral into the deep recesses of his mind.</p><p>Aggressively rubbing his eyes to the point where he sees starts, Richie clears his throat before responding, “Yeah, Yeah—What’s time, f-for the meeting?”</p><p>“One-thirty, you need a ride?” Steve tells him.</p><p>Richie pinches the bride of his nose as he does the math in his head, he only has about an hour and a half to make himself look less messy—less <em>broken</em>.</p><p>“No, no I’m fine. Thanks for the offer, but uh, I’ll get an Uber or something,” Richie says smiling to himself at the memory of his last Uber drive.</p><p>“Great, see you a little bit then Richie,” Steve expresses before bidding goodbye and hanging up before Richie can say another word.</p><p>“You’re lucky I’m too much of a pussy to fire you Steve,” Richie says to himself as turns off his phone.</p><p>Richie lets the hand holding his phone drop to his side before heaving a deep breath that causes a sharp pain to shoot through his entire. He hits his chest and breaths shallowly until the pain fades into a radiating numbness.</p><p>“If it doesn’t go <em>away</em> I’ll go to the doctor, if gets any <em>worse</em> I’ll go to the doctor,” Richie tells himself, reciting the promise he made days earlier.</p><p>Using his bed frame to stand up, Richie groans as he carefully stretches out the tightness in his lower back.</p><p>Richie leans down with a wince and sets his phone back on the night stand, the phone lighting up the time and reminds how much Richie has to do in such a short amount of time.</p><p>“It’s just another day, another day of taking one step at a time,” He says in an attempt to motivate himself.</p><p>“One <em>fucking </em>step.”</p><p>Richie takes a shower for the first time in four days.</p><p>~</p><p>            By the time Richie’s showered, shaved and dressed, and in his least-smelliest clothes, he still has just a little over half-an-hour before his meeting with Steve.</p><p>            He’s glad that he ordered an Uber as he was slipping on his shoes, because the second Richie leaves his complex his Uber is there waiting for him.</p><p>            Richie sighs in relief when the traffic is less stop-and go as usual. He texts Steve that he might be a little earlier than usual, which Steve replies by telling Richie that being early to an important meeting is <em>usually </em>preferred.</p><p>            Later on, does Richie realizes that his text stating his unusual punctuality jinxed him in the end.</p><p>Richie forgot that the world is rarely ever on his side.</p><p>Immediately after Steve’s text, an accident happens a block ahead of him—causing Richie’s unexperienced Uber driver to try and drive <em>around</em> the accident.</p><p>Said unexperienced Uber driver get’s turned around and lost due to his phone’s GPS suddenly turning off as they drive through a dead spot.</p><p>In the end, Richie ends up giving the kid directions back to where they started—stuck in the traffic that was occurring behind them.</p><p>While stuck in traffic, Richie resists texting his manager of his current predicament. Holding onto his last shred of hope that somehow magically he’ll get to his meeting on time for once.</p><p>Richie’s eyes remain fixated on the time displayed on his phone. He stares at it with such intensity that his Uber driver keep sending him worried looks through the rear-view mirror.</p><p>By the time his Uber pulls up to Richie’s destination, his phone’s screen lit up with the numbers reading 1:20.</p><p>Quickly tucking his phone into his jacket, Richie fishes out his wallet and throws two twenty’s at his driver before he hurries towards the buildings entrance.</p><p>Richie nearly knocks over and helps stable two people before he makes his way to the elevators.</p><p>He taps the elevator’s buttons as he gives himself a moment to breath through the uncomfortable throbbing starting to spread through his chest.</p><p>“Excuse me sir?”</p><p>“Huh?” Richie says as his head whip’s towards his left.</p><p>An young intern-looking woman points to the elevator, “The elevator’s are shut down,” She says, “They’re under maintenance.”</p><p>Richie looks back at the elevator and feels stupid for missing the giant sign hung up in front of him.</p><p>“The stairs are just down the hall though,” She tells him, “What floor are you going too?” She asks.</p><p>He quickly re-reads Steve’s texts to find out, “I don’t know,” Richie admits as he feels slightly lightheaded with frustration, “I have a meeting with a…Philip Thomas and a Gregory West?”</p><p>The intern looks down and taps away at her tablet, “They are on the eighth floor,” She informs him with a small smile.</p><p>Richie closes his eyes and withholds a groan at the given information, “Thank you,” He says to the intern.</p><p>He starts heading down the hallway.</p><p>“Sir! Excuse me sir! You’re going the wrong way!” Yells out the intern.</p><p>Richie turns on his heel and walks the other way, “Thanks again,” he says to the intern, his smile tight as he passes her.</p><p>            Heading down the hallway, Richie ends up face to face with the door that hides away the staircase that he knows could lead to his downfall.</p><p>            Taking one last deep breath, he pushes open the door.</p><p>            “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Richie curses as his eyes trail up the steps spiraling upwards.</p><p>            Walking closer to the first couple of steps and leaning on the rail, Richie looks up through the center of the dizzying staircase. He closes his eyes and shakes his head both in awe of the amount of concrete steps that reside above him, and because he’s starting to feel a little lightheaded at the fact that his meeting in on the <em>eighth floor</em>.</p><p>            Richie knows that even on a <em>good </em>day, these steps would still seriously kick his ass.</p><p>            However, for the last week or so, <em>every</em> day had been a <em>bad </em>day—especially <em>this </em>day.</p><p>            He checks his phone.</p><p>            It’s 1:26.</p><p>            “Fuck me,” Richie says to the empty staircase.</p><p>            Richie takes a second to breath in through his nose and exhale once through his mouth—he only has the time for the one breathing exercise.</p><p>            With one hand on the railing, he takes the first step.</p><p>Only hundred-and-something more steps remaining.</p><p>~</p><p>“You see the fucked up thing about this,” Richie says to himself as he nears his desired floor, “What kind of idiot company schedules their <em>only</em> elevators to be fixed during <em>business </em>hours,” he continues.</p><p>About four staircases up, the stabbing pain Richie’s been experiencing returned tenfold.</p><p>No matter how many times Richie tried schooling his labored breathing, or thumping his chest with a closed fist, the pain wouldn’t fade away like it usually did.</p><p>But Richie couldn’t just turn away from this meeting <em>now, </em>not when he was so close.</p><p>Richie had let the pain wash over him completely for a second before forcing down the piercing feeling in his side to the point where the pain felt like a dull throbbing that radiates throughout his body.</p><p>To keep up with his forced numbness, Richie started to talk to himself as he slowly makes his way up the remaining flights of the staircase.</p><p>“It’s like they w-want people to go into cardiac arrest or something,” Richie says breathlessly, as his arm hold his mid-section tightly, “I-It’s like they want a lawsuit to be filed.”</p><p>Coughing half way through a deep breath, Richie looks up in front of him, “Oh thank fuck,” He says.</p><p>            A large painted ‘8’ stands before him.</p><p>            Using his available arm on the staircases railing, Richie pulls himself up the remaining steps.</p><p>            He takes a second to catch his breath but realizes that every time he inhales just a little <em>too </em>much air, the controlled throbbing transforms back into the never-ending <em>nightmarish</em> stabbing sensation that knocks more air than he can take back in.</p><p>            He stables himself on the cold concrete walls as he tries to pull open the door leading to the eighth floor.</p><p>            His relief that he felt seeing the large ‘8’ now haunts him as the door remains shut.</p><p>            It’s locked.</p><p>            “Are y-you fucking kidding me!?” Richie shouts frustratingly.</p><p>            Richie shakes the door’s handle until he feels like he’s made enough attempts to get through that giving up seems like the <em>smarter</em> choice than a <em>cowardly</em> one.</p><p>             He sighs as he rests his forehead against the soothing temperature the little window in the door gives off.</p><p>            Richie forgot that the world is <em>truly </em>never on his side.</p><p>            He really tried today.</p><p>            Richie really wanted to make it to his meeting on time—to prove that <em>something </em>can change for the better since Derry.</p><p>            He really tried to take the first step.</p><p>            Richie really wanted this day to go <em>differently—</em>to know that <em>he</em> could change for the better.</p><p>            In the end, Richie just really, <em>really </em>wanted to know why <em>nothing </em>has improved since returning back to L.A.</p><p>            Watching as his hot breath starts to condensate on the glass, the movement of a familiar figure passing through the window jerks him out of his own thoughts.</p><p>            He frantically hits the the window with his palm, “Steve! Steve!” Richie shouts, praying that his manager can somehow hear him, “Steve you asshole! I’m right here!”</p><p>              Miraculously, Steve’s face appears in front of window. Richie refrains from laughing at the shocked and confused expression stuck on his managers face.</p><p>            Suddenly the door opens, and Richie nearly looses his balance before he steady’s himself on the wall next to him, “Why the fuck did you <em>not </em>warn me about the elevators being broken?”</p><p>            Steve blinks, “They were working when I got here,” he tells Richie.</p><p>            Richie laughs as he shakes his head, “<em>Awesome,” </em>he says sarcastically.</p><p>“You look worse in real life,” Steve admits as he gives Richie a complete once over, “Seriously, you look like complete and utter <em>shit</em> Tozier.”</p><p>Richie brushes his hand through his sweat soaked hair, “Maybe it’s because I just f-fucking hiked up <em>eight </em>flights of stairs. Oh, and you could’ve at <em>least</em> told me what floor our meeting was going to take place,” He angrily rambles.   </p><p>He starts to move towards the door that Steve’s holding open, but has to stop as what feels like an invisible knife stabs in between his ribs.</p><p>Richie grunts at the pain and nearly doubles over until Steve grabs his shoulders and stables him.</p><p>“Fuck Richie!” Steve exclaims as he manhandles Richie through the door, “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on something!?” He demands.</p><p>Richie winces as he chuckles, “N-Nah, but I might be dying. Don’t really know.”</p><p>Steve’s eyes widen, “How the fuck do you not know if your dying or not?!”</p><p>Richie shrugs.</p><p>Shaking his head, Steve let’s Richie’s body sink to the ground. Steve turns around as he hears sets of footsteps behind him, “Has anybody here taken a CPR class?” He asks the crowd.</p><p>Nobody makes any indication that they have.</p><p>“Does it count if I took the class almost twenty years ago?” Richie questions as he tries to keep his eyes open. “I mean I still remember <em>some </em>of the stuff.”</p><p>Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “I’m calling 911.”</p><p>Richie shakes his head and tries to get up, “I-I’m fine,” he says before his body falls back to the floor the second he makes an effort to get off the ground, “Hmm, n’ver mind,” he slurs.</p><p>Richie’s eyes start to stay closed longer each time he blinks, “You should call 911,” He tells his manager.</p><p>Steve leans down and slaps Richie cheek when his eyes refuse to remain open, “Stay awake Tozier, can’t have you dying on me quite yet.”</p><p>Richie manages to laugh one last time before the world goes black and it completely mutes itself.</p>
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